


True Metal

by Draqua



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Autobot Knock Out, Autobot Megatron, Crossover, F/M, Gay Robots, Happy Ending, Kylo Ren Redemption, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption Arcs for All, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, the only way to save TROS is to apply giant robots and rub vigorously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draqua/pseuds/Draqua
Summary: Lost in a galaxy far, far away; Cody Burns does what he does best: make friends, save lives, and try to find a way home.Megatron, former Decepticon tyrant, seeks his redemption by way of allying with the Resistance against the First Order; and to reunite with his adopted "grandchild".Desperate to be the Jedi the Resistance wants her to be, Rey finds unexpected support in a sassy, red speedster, harboring his own desires to be a hero.Meanwhile, cracking under the weight of his newly acquired role, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren captures lightning in a bottle; a powerful spark that whispers memories from a massive, mechanical warrior.
Relationships: Cody Burns & Francine Greene, Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 47
Kudos: 27





	1. Somewhere over the Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'll admit this is a bit of a big, indulgent beast. But I figured: you have to be the change you want to see in the world. Why not get all my feelings about Rescue Bot Megatron out and write an alternate version of IX (but this time, with big robots) all at once? To any rate, let me know what you think. We're starting off with just a few key players here, with more to arrive soon. Major thank you to Jazvolt for beta-reading. I hope you have some fun with it.

Cody Burns woke up in a cell to the sound of a child crying.  
  
The cell was nothing like the one back in his dad’s police station on Griffin Rock. There were no bars, no windows, and barely a ceiling or floor. The room was a curved, egg shaped space comprised entirely of a hard, glossy black material that narrowed towards the back end where Cody was.  
  
He pushed himself up, hands brushing against the ruff of his bomber jacket. He was laying on one of three identical beds that jutted out from the place just above where the bottom of the room transitioned into what could be considered walls. The beds were lacking in pillows or blankets; not designed for comfort, as his aching shoulders were indicating to him.  
  
More disturbingly, they were not designed for anyone or anything larger than a child.  
  
Cody brought himself up to a seated position and blearily looked ahead as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.  
  
The crying that had woken him was being produced by a young girl, much smaller than Cody. She had a sweet round face framed by thick curls of red-brown hair, and shocking yellow eyes that were flooded with tears. She seemed to be attempting to collect herself, jamming small fists into her face to rub the at the watery streaks while taking gulping breaths.  
  
Towards the front end of the room there was an oblong, transparent window that sealed off the space. What little light the cell contained was shining through the window, and the hallway outside seemed just as black & foreboding as their bizarre prison. Of more interest was the third individual in their cell; a boy. Perhaps close to Cody’s age, but a head taller, with slim arms & legs indicating a recent growth spurt. Like the girl, he had dark skin and hair.  
  
The boy was half leaning with one arm against his forehead at the window, though not in a relaxing posture at all. Every few seconds, he would pound his free fist against the pane, producing a dull thud that echoed in the chamber and a groan of frustration from his lips. Harsh breath fogged on the glass.  
  
The girl noticed Cody’s movement and gasped softly  
  
“Kel!”   
  
The older boy turned around swiftly; fists raised as though ready for a fight, pale eyes flashing. He had a smattering of red freckles across his face.  
  
“Don’t go near my sister!” the boy, Kel, called out with panicked forcefulness. He side-stepped to put himself between Cody and the girl, reaching slightly behind him to put a firm hand on her shoulder.  
  
The girl, sniffing slightly, peered out from behind her brother and regarded Cody with a steady, curious gaze.  
  
Cody remained seated and held his flat hands up in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture.  
  
“Whoa! Hey, no problem. I’ll stay right here.”  
  
The girl poked her head around Kel’s arm, some of her fear seeming to recede at Cody’s voice. “I’m Eila,” she offered, voice throaty with recent tears. “Who are you?”  
  
Kel hissed and tried to elbow her back. “Eila!”  
  
Cody smiled and tilted his head to the side, blowing a puff of air to fluff his blonde bangs.  
  
“Very nice to meet you, Eila. My name is Cody Burns, from Griffin Rock. And this must be…” his eyes trailed up to Kel, who was looking more and more displeased and exasperated as his sister giggled lightly under Cody’s attention.   
  
“Kel, my brother,” Eila supplied brightly, stepping around in front to greet Cody. She clasped her hands lightly behind her back and leaned forward.   
  
“Great to meet you both,” Cody said, in a manner he hoped was mutually pleasant and not interpreted as aggressive or patronizing. He’d been around enough frightened children (and frightened adults, for that matter) to recognize when stress could broil into a decidedly unproductive situation. Rule number one for any rescue worker is to remain calm and reassure after all.   
  
Kel, for his part, seemed to decide Cody was no threat and returned to his post by the window an eye roll. “Good manners,” he huffed. “For all the good they’ll do you here...”  
  
“You were brought here after us,” chimed in Eila. “You’ve been asleep for hours!”   
  
Cody put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “And where is ‘here’, exactly?”  
  
Eila, now at Cody’s right, stiffened and her face fell. “This is a First Order vessel…” Her voice had become thick with sorrow again.   
  
“They caught us while we were helping a drop ship crew gather supplies,” added Kel. His face, reflected in the window, twisted in anger. “We’d done it hundreds of times before! Just another routine stop. And this one time, those creeps get lucky and jump us?” Kel’s forehead thumped against the glass and his shoulders trembled. “I just… I…”   
  
Eila approached him and wrapped her thin arms around his waist. “Kel…”  
  
Cody stepped towards them slightly, the rubber soles of his hiking boots squealing harshly against the dark floor.   
  
“Hold on. The First Order..?”   
  
“You been living under a rock or something?” Kel cast a sharp look over his shoulder. Eila made a scolding noise and squeezed his middle tighter.   
  
Seeming to wish to placate his sister, Kel sighed and continued. “I guess you have been… ‘Griffin Rock’. Interesting name for a planet.”  
  
Cody knocked his head to the side. “No… Earth. Earth is my planet.” His hands waved slightly as he fumbled to explain, though partly due to increasing stress as his situation sunk in. “Griffin Rock is an island on Earth.” He tried to draw a vaguely circular shape in the air with one finger to indicate a planet.   
  
Kel turned fully around with an eyebrow raised, watching his display with Eila in tow. “Your planet is literally named after dirt? Wow, that’s fun.”  
  
“Kel!” Eila hissed. She let go of his middle and stared up at him with a pout. Seeming admonished again, Kel hung his fists at his side and sighed.   
  
“Sorry… I’m just…” He looked Cody in the eyes. “The First Order attacked our home planet a while ago, burned everything to the ground. My sister and I just barely escaped, and we’ve been living on a refueling station ever since. We had friends there, and new family… but now…”  
  
He trailed off and his head slumped forward.  
  
“The First Order steals away children to use in their army…” Eila continued, she reached out to take Cody’s hand, “No one knows exactly what they do to ‘em. But they have a massive army of powerful soldiers. They’ve conquered hundreds of planets & systems. Caused so much pain.”  
  
Her yellow eyes had gone very wide and her voice had taken on a dull quality, as though she wasn’t entirely present in the moment, in spite of the dark words coming from her mouth.  
  
Kel put his arms around her tiny shoulders. Seeming to come back to herself, she abruptly dropped Cody’s hand and threw herself into her brother’s embrace, sobbing quietly again.  
  
His stomach rapidly dropping, Cody chewed his lip and stepped forward towards the now unoccupied window of the cell. Through the dim glass, he could see a long, dark hallway, lit sparingly from the ceiling. The hall was lined with several egg-shaped windows exactly like his own as far down in either direction Cody could see. Some were empty & barren, but many contained children… human children. Round, sad faces and a few empty palms pressed to the glass, peering out from darkness into the limited light of the hall. Some faces were tear streaked, some were slack and lacking expression altogether, some were twisted with rage.  
  
Cody let out a puff of breath, which condensed on barrier. He tried to focus in on that, attempting to get a grip on himself. Okay, okay. Stay calm. What would dad say in this situation?  
  
Dad…  
  
No. Remain calm. Gather information. Just take it second by second. Cody inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. Okay, we were in Doc’s lab, trying to investigate where Optimus and the medic had gone via their last coordinates. Things started to go haywire and the world went dark, because…  
  
Because…  
  
Cody’s eyebrows shot up. Because giant metal hands swooped in to protect me, like they always do.  
  
“Hey!” Cody turned around swiftly to the pair of siblings, “When I was brought here, was there anyone else with me? Did the… Those First Order guys? Did they say anything?”  
  
Startled by their cellmate’s sudden outburst, Kel and Eila jolted, but shook their heads a moment later.  
  
“You were alone, Cody,” Kel informed him grimly.  
  
“I don’t think that’s true,” Cody replied, partially to himself. He tossed his head and continued, louder & with a practiced confidence from years of work with his family. “Listen, I’m part of a team of rescue workers back home. We keep the people of Griffin Rock safe from fire, natural disaster, and..” he trailed off slightly and shrugged his shoulders. “... the occasional dinosaur or two.”  
  
Kel and Eila blinked back at him in unison.  
  
“Anyways,” Cody continued, undeterred, “I didn’t get stuck out here alone. I’m sure he’s looking for me.”  
  
“He...?” Eila tilted her head slightly, her voice had that knowing, dull quality again.  
  
“Meg-” Cody stopped suddenly, despite his previous enthusiasm, and considered his next words very carefully. “My grandfather.” He pressed on. “…if there’s someone looking for me; for us, then there’s a chance! Don’t give up! We’re going to get out of here. I’ll rescue you and-“  
  
“Cody.” Eila’s soft voice cut through the room, “You can’t.”  
  
Now it was Kel’s turn to hiss in reprimand down at his sister, but her large eyes just stared directly forward out the window. Cody’s face fell and his hands curled inwards towards his chest. _  
  
Is… is that it?_   
  
Eila stepped away from her brother and pointed towards the hallway, “But maybe they can.”  
  
In the excitement, Cody had missed the arrival of several new figures.  
  
There were three adults in white armor and frightening helmets that resembled distorted skulls.   
  
“Those are stormtroopers.” Eila supplied. Cody didn’t notice that his lips hadn’t moved.  
  
Two of the troopers were carrying sleek, white & black rifles, large enough or heavy enough that they needed to be held in two hands. The third was pushing a small cart that was topped with chrome medical equipment, mostly scalpels.  
  
Cody’s stomach lurched at the sight.  
  
The cart itself was rather loud, not in the auditory sense, but in the visual – it was white and teal, thereby making it the only non-black & white object within visual range. More important than any of that was a mechanical-looking man who stood a head or so shorter than the stormtroopers on stiff limbs. Black plating covered a body that seemed to be comprised almost entirely of tubes and wires.  
  
“That’s a protocol droid,” Eila whispered again.  
  
The protocol droid was bringing up the rear of the party, on account of him dragging something on a leash composed of a thin red line of light. The stormtroopers paid no mind to the struggles of droid behind them, who continued to haul his cargo forward with two hands.  
  
As they passed by Cody’s window, a familiar safety-orange shape on four silver legs came into view...  
  
“Servo!”  
  
At the sound of his master’s voice, the Cybertronian dog stopped pulling on his restraint and instead ran full force up to the window panel. Curve paws smacked the barrier and Servo’s bleating bark reverberated through the hall.   
  
The sudden change in momentum caused the protocol droid to be dragged sideways into the cell window as well. His rigid torso bouncing painfully next to Servo, who was now up on his hindlegs and desperately pawing at what separated him from the boy, producing a piercing whine.  
  
“Good boy Servo!” Cody called in response, reaching his palms up to meet Servo’s paws. The protocol droid shoved itself up and made to pull the leash taught again. During the motion, Cody caught something deeply important on the droid’s chest. A small, nearly imperceptible symbol; situated just below the pectoral plating.   
  
A familiar shape.  
  
A grim little robotic face with large, stylized eyebrows.  
  
Hope bloomed in Cody Burn’s chest.  
  
“Get that thing under control.” The heavily modulated voice of one of the weapon-carrying stormtroopers broke Cody revere, “Command wants it down in the maintenance bay to be stripped for parts.”  
  
Cody tensed and Servo scratched harder at the glass.  
  
“Apologies, sir.” The protocol droid replied with a polite, British accent that was appropriately servile but just haughty enough to cause the Trooper pushing the cart to make a sneering noise that barely escaped his helmet.  
  
The droid girded his arms at best he could with their apparently limited mobility; attempting to drag Servo away.  
  
Cody curled his hands into fists and pounded at the cell window. Kel and Eila had come up to his sides.  
  
“Hey! HEY!” Cody yelled between the sounds of his fists hitting unyielding glass.   
  
Servo’s paws made a sickening scrape as he was forcibly dragged sideways by the protocol droid, who turned his upper body to follow the Troopers; arms locked behind him bearing against Servo’s resistance.  
  
But Cody’s attention wasn’t on his Mini-Con dog, it was focused squarely on the droid. “Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong!” he yelled through the glass.   
  
There was a pause, and Kel pushed an agonized breath out from between his front teeth.  
  
“Cody, what are you d-“  
  
Servo’s front paws came down on the hallway floor with a gentle thud. His leash had been released and the beam of light flopped down in a coil.   
  
The protocol droid had halted completely, then turned back around to face the children. A change had gone over it, the signature stiff bobbing was absent. The simple act of turning was now fluid & complex; more alive.  
  
There was a light in its eyes that had not been there before.  
  
“Could you…” the droid’s voice was deeper now, richer. The haughtiness was still there but tempered by a note of wonder. “Could you please say that again?”  
  
Cody smiled, placing his hands on his hips. “Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong. The universal greeting.”  
  
“What are you doing?” The stormtrooper from before had aggressively rounded back towards them. Then, several things happened at once.  
  
The protocol droid, who clearly wasn’t a droid at all, snapped his arm back to violently elbow the approaching Trooper across the nose area of his helmet with enough force to send the head piece spinning sideways on the man’s head. He fell back with a grunt of pain and was staggered enough for the ‘droid’ to grab the Trooper’s rifle, and then handily deliver two shots.  
  
The second Trooper took only a moment to train his rifle on the chaos. But he was swiftly knocked off his feet by the freed Servo in a storm of growls and snapping teeth. Servo set his jaws into the offending rifle and flung it across the hall with an snap of his long neck, where it clattered harmlessly off the dark wall.   
  
“Do step back, Fido,” the droid said amicably, and proceeded to blast the stormtrooper Servo had downed in the chest with a bolt of energy the moment the dog hopped away.   
  
The third, who had been pushing the medical cart and did not have the benefit of a drawn rifle, tried to backpedal towards the wall of imprisoned children. He brandished the cart outwards at the sudden scuffle. This was of little help, as the cart wretched itself out of his grip; the shining scalpels plinking to the ground with flashes of light like cutlery from an upended dinner table.  
  
 _TSCHE-CHU-CHU-CHU-TSCHE_  
  
With a hiss of metal and gears easily shifting together, the teal and white medical cart split along hidden seems and folding out into a barrel-bodied little female Mini-Con with bright blue eyes and wheels for feet. She had thick white arms and large fists, which smoothly flew up to deliver an upper cut to her former stormtrooper ‘pilot.’   
  
He fell flat on his back with a groan.  
  
After checking on her fallen foe by kicking his lower legs with a pudgy tire-foot, the Mini-Con whirled over to the hallway door and began busying herself with an access panel. There was a heavy, mechanical clunk from either end of the hall as the doors were locked. Immediately thereafter, the glass window in front of Cody split from unseen lines into a series of curved triangles and were sucked away into the frame with a swish.  
  
They were free.  
  
Servo bounded over the threshold with a yip, rubbing his metallic face into Cody’s chest, short tail bobbing rapidly back and forth.  
  
“Good boy, Servo!” Cody responded, almost automatically, fussing at the dog’s cool, firm ears. The elation at seeing a potential Autobot ally had been doused slightly by the sudden burst of violence.

Kel and Eila had retreated nearly to the back of the cell, despite the open door. Their would-be rescuer stepped forward in front of the entrance, holding the stolen rifle in a shoulder carry.  
  
“Thousands of stellar cycles in this confounding dimension and not a one recognized us as Cybertronian until now!” In one fluid motion, the hand not burdened by a weapon reached up and yanked at his chin line, causing Cody to wince. The “face” of a protocol droid slid up & over the mechanical man’s head and was tossed casually on the floor, nothing but a simple mask. A complex face of Cybertronain metal was exposed with a speaker box mouth, large blue rimmed eyes and a short metallic fringe shooting out from the back of his skull.  
  
He clicked his heels together and waved his free hand in a flourish. “Autobot headmaster; Cogman. At your service, sir.”   
  
“Uh… Hi,” Cody replied after a beat, wrapping his arms around Servo’s thick neck to both comfort himself and ground the animal, who snarled at this invasion of his master’s space. Cody gestured with his chin to the fallen Troopers.  
“They’re not… dead… are they?”  
  
“Oh, heavens no!” Cogman declared loudly, waving to the rifle, “Stun only. Although…” He turned his flashing eyes to follow Cody’s and his voice took on a deep, frightening quality. “If you’re wanting a more permanent solution...”  
  
“No! No, that’s… okay. Let’s just… talk. And, um…” he scanned his eyes pointedly across the still locked cells of children along the opposite wall. “Can you open those too?”  
  
“Righto, sir.” Cogman’s dark demeanor dropped instantly and he nodded towards the stout Mini-Con at the hall door. “Oh Nickel, my darling metal dove? Would you be so kind as to-“  
  
“I heard him!” she snapped back. “Verbose sycophant.” She muttered various Cybertronian curses as she fiddled with the control panel. She had a British accent too, but with a coarse, tinny inflection.   
  
Cody made a mental note to ask Heatwave exactly what a few of those phrases actually meant.  
  
Cogman made a presentative gesture with his whole arm, “It delights me to introduce the Decepticon medic, Nickel. Is she not a gem of the rarest degree?”  
  
“My audio receptors are in perfect working order, thank you very much!” added the Mini-Con. “A wonder, considering how much auricular garbage I put up with.”  
  
Cell door swept open one by one. A few frightened faces pushed through, while many held back in whimpering fear.  
  
“Are you sure about this, Cody?” Kel said softly. He had approached, placing a hand on the other boy’s shoulder under the ruff of his bomber jacket. “You know these guys?”  
  
“Well, not exactly,” Cody admitted. “But I know what they are; Cybertronains. Living metal beings from…”  
  
“Earth?” interrupted Kel.   
  
Cody laughed, “No, Cybertron. Sort of earth’s… sister planet?” He shrugged. “I guess?” _That’s a long story for another day._  
  
“I wasn’t aware Cybertron had gained a sibling!” Cogman cut in loudly, not liking to be ignored for any length of time. “Then again, I’m no such expert on galactical matters. My skills include functioning as the symbiotic head of other, larger mechanical based lifeforms, and buttling.” Cogman topped this statement off with a shallow bow.  
  
Kel leaned in to whisper in Cody’s ear. “And now _he’s_ the one with a weapon.”  
  
“Oh! How terribly rude of me.” Cogman declared, stepping forward quickly to bend at the waist and shoved the rifle with both hands towards Kel’s face. “Did you want to hold it?”  
  
“NO!” Kel squawked, stumbling backwards.  
  
“Very well.” Cogman straightened up and focused his attention back to Cody. “Perhaps later.”  
  
Cody leaned back, looking back and forth between Cogman and NIckel. Something about Cogman’s recent statement had him on edge.   
  
“Decepticon? But you’re…”  
  
“Ah, you stand in the presence of star-crossed lovers, young master!” Cogman’s arms swept outwards dramatically, weapon and all. “We could not bear to be kept apart by tides and titles of The Great War. So, of course, we stole away together one fateful day through a space bridge.” His arms came back down to his sides, “Unfortunately, it was a badly malfunctioning space bridge. And we wound up in this dimension that has seen neither spark nor side plating of a Cybertronian.”  
  
“And we’ve been passing as simple droids ever since.” Nickel, much more subdued, crossed her arms over her broad chest. “We ran away from the great war of our species, and just dropped into a galaxy full of squishy biologicals who seem to always be at war for one reason or another. Still… it makes it easy to hide.” She glanced pointedly up at Cogman. “Even if this one isn’t much for scanning vehicle modes.”  
  
“A storm I weather gladly by your side.” Cogman concluded.  
  
Nickel rolled her eyes and groaned, but she also smiled, very faintly.  
  
The captured children began slowly spilling out into the hall, seeming to have decided the mad droid wasn’t going to shoot them. Frightened faces darted around the dim space as they packed together in groups of two or more.   
  
Cody, for his part, was silent. His eyes had gone unfocused as he processed this information. _So, it’s true. The space bridge didn’t just zap me away. I’m not just lost. I’m a whole dimension away from home… A dimension with some pretty messed up stuff going on if you’re a kid. Or I guess if you’re anyone._  
  
 _Whoa, this is heavy…_  
  
Servo had padded out of Cody’s arms and gone to investigate the siblings. Eila tentatively held out hand for him to sniff.  
  
“Doggy…” she whispered as Servo gently shoved his orange head under her hand and then wriggled in closer to huff around her face and hair. Eila giggled at this, first quietly, then louder into full delighted squeals. Kel reached out and began cautiously petting at Servo’s neck. The dog lacked fur, but there was a pleasant warmth to his metal form.  
  
With her brother momentarily distracted, Eila swept past Cody, rousing the boy from his thoughts. She paused in front of Cogman and then, again slowly, raised a hand up to meet his.  
  
Kel hissed, “Eila-“  
  
Cogman tilted his head, but then bent at the waist to gently took Eila’s tiny palm between his complex, metal fingers and bobbed it up and down lightly. “A pleasure my dear.”  
  
Eila turned back to her brother and smiled. “It’s okay.”  
  
At the sight of a human and Cybertronian exchanging greetings, Cody released a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. So long as this was a place where new friends could be made, they’d be okay. “Noble.” He remarked softly to no one in particular.  
  
“Speaking of which,” Cogman said, suddenly full of energy again. He dropped Eila’s hand to place his own on his knee while he bent forward to look Cody in the eye. “What of the war, then? Cybertron still dark I expect? Poor old girl. Last I hear, the 74th gunner regiment was overcome with Scraplets, nasty blighters. Hoping that was only a rumor.”   
  
“Give the boy some air!” groused Nickel, “And why do you expect a human to know about the war effort, even if he did recognize us?”  
  
“Well, I’m not the biggest expect on the specifics,” Cody cut in. “See, I’m from planet earth. A while ago, Optimus Prime stationed a group of Rescue Bots there with me and my family. Sort of a cultural exchange thing.”  
  
“Prime! You’ve met him?” exclaimed Cogman, his free hand smacking loudly against his cheek in delight.  
  
“Rescue Bots?” Nickel murmured, “Thought their kind all got wiped out…”  
  
“Yeah, of course I’ve met him.” Cody smiled, pointedly not dwelling on Nickel’s comment and rhythmically patted Servo’s shoulder area with two flat palms to demonstrate his point. “I know a whole bunch of Autobots, thanks to Optimus.”   
  
Nickel made noise of wonder, though it could have also been disbelief. Maybe jealousy.  
  
“And some Decepticons!” Cody quickly amended, tripping over his tongue a bit. “Not as many, but it’s been easier to make friends since all the fighting stopped.”  
  
Cogman and Nickel both snapped to attention and tilted their heads.  
  
“Oh?” they said in unison.  
  
“Yeah! The Great War is over! By Megatron’s own order.”  
  
There was a pause as the two Cybertronians took in this information. The increasing number of children within the hall began to quietly whisper amongst themselves.  
  
Cogman began slowly. “Well, that’s… wonderful! Absolutely top rate news! Isn’t it my-“  
  
Nickel interrupted with a sharp, barking laugh. “You’ll understand if I’m a little more than skeptical that the gladiator tyrant would call an end to the war he started and leave Autobots, along with biological lifeforms, around to tell the tale.”  
  
Cody hesitated. He could feel Kel & Eila’s eyes on him, looking for context on this bizarre situation and conversation in which he had gotten himself. How much information was safe to give out to this trigger-happy Autobot and a small, but surely dangerous, Decpeticon; life partners or not?   
  
_But if I don’t say anything, I might never find him, and then we’ll never get home._  
  
Servo looked up at his boy and whined plaintively. Eila tugged gently on Cody’s jacket sleeve.  
  
 _It’s gonna be okay._  
  
Cody licked his lips and took a breath. “I know about Megatron because…”  
  
***  
  
The night winds blew over the expansive prairie grasses of Lothal, creating a gently flowing sea of golden green.  
  
Within the tide, a lone fawn-coloured Loth-cat dashed across dry, compacted earth. Anisodactyl feet raised only the tiniest puffs of dust from its paw falls. Large, fluffy ears twirled frontwards and backwards as the creature hunted for prey.  
  
High above the plains, the dark sky stretched long, round, and high; dotted with a million pinpricks of light from uncountable stars floating silently above.   
  
As the Loth-cat continued its hunt, grasslands began to thin and the soil took on a harder, processed quality. The air became thick with the scent of iron, oil, and the refuse from years of unnaturally boring into the crust of the planet.  
  
The Loth-cat slowed into a prowl as it took stock of its surroundings. It had arrived at the outskirts of the Monad Outpost, a once elaborate mining facility that had long since been abandoned and converted into structures of other purposes.   
  
Such history and specifics were of little interest or importance to the small beast. But the unnatural odors and thrum of feet, voices, and bodies emanating from the old docking bay were repugnant and frightening. It curled its round face and wide mouth into a hiss at the unpleasant structure and turned to flee back into the familiar whisper of the chaotic, green wild.  
  
As the Loth-cat made its retreat, it swept by two hooded figures striding through the tall grass. They paid little mind to the animal, if they had even noticed its presence at all, and the Loth-cat didn’t offer them so much as a backwards glance.  
  
It would later run by their craft; a large Resistance transport hauler of dubious working quality, disguised with a slapdash paint job, and hidden within a bluff of spine trees.  
  
Finn and Rose Tico smoothly navigated through the restless crowd of the docking bay-turned-gladiator arena. The pair kept their heads bent forward, but eyes dead ahead; praying that their dark grey cloaks would be nondescript enough and the swarming populous would keep attention minimal.  
  
Rose inched closer to Finn as an armed stormtrooper marched by.  
  
“I’m not scared,” Rose leaned her head into her partner. “See, actually, you’re holding me back. So that I don’t start knocking the teeth out of every First Order creep in this place.”  
  
Finn laughed softly and drew her in as they walked.  
  
“I know, babe. I know…”  
  
Lothal had been in open rebellion against The First Order for years now; the civilian population well remembering their harsh lives under The Empire’s occupation. But recent orders coming directly from the now Chancellor Armitage Hux to exert greater control over the Outer Rim had led to Monad Outpost being violently seized and the old ‘Arena Day’ tradition being resurrected as a means to publicly torment, torture, and execute locals who rose up against their oppressors.  
  
The blood-sport was rapidly attracting attention from neighboring planets and general purpose lowlifes who sought to witness the grizzly spectacle, to earn a profit sending their prized beasts to slaughter prisons-turned-gladiators, or simply conspire to have their own enemies thrown to the pit.  
  
Hence why Finn found himself alongside his beloved companion on this dangerous errand to gather intelligence in the hopes of eventually offering aide.  
  
 _Though really…_ Finn thought to himself grimly. _It’s us in the Resistance that needs all the help we can get._  
  
With their numbers dwindling, resources stretched thin and General Organa rapidly running out of contacts & allegiances to lean on, times were bleak. Their limited forces were often concentrated at base, with only a few key members (like themselves) able to conduct missions at all.  
  
Rey’s Jedi training continued to progress more by the day under Leia, but lately Rey had been… just so cold & distant. Like she was sad about something she refused to speak about.  
She pored over the Jedi texts at night. Finn suspected she didn’t sleep. He often caught her starring off into space, alternating between enraged, devasted, or stone faced. And when pressed, she would either rapidly change the topic, snap with anger, or simply refuse to engage at all. Not that Finn could really blame her, considering the amount of stress they were all under.  
  
 _Still, something’s up with her…_  
  
Rose took a slight lead ahead as they climbed the arena steps and into the spectator seats. They passed by locals alternating between screams of rage and wails of despair as prisoners were trotted out in chains into the sandy pit. Several standout off-worlders within the crowd, however, cheered with glee at the promise of horror to come, loudly demanding that the show begin. Standing high and daunting over the arena was a tall box seat, built recently, given its conspicuous black decor that contrasted with the industrial greens and browns of the repurposed facility. Without seeing inside, Finn knew it was meant to house First Order observers.

  
Rose looked down on the display below and grimaced under her cloak, fists tightening.   
  
A row above them, two stormtroopers strode through the seating area, their boots seeming to echo louder than the screams of the crowd. “Let’s just find Boolio and get out of here,” she muttered through clenched teeth.  
  
Finn nodded, and Rose pulled her hood down low enough to cover her whole face as she strode down the seating aisle. She seemed to be counting on the cloak and the crowd to muffle her frustrated growl.  
Finn followed behind; hands drawn against his body. _  
  
Can’t help Rey, can’t help Rose._ _  
  
Can’t help the people here._ _  
  
Can’t help anyone._  
  
Finn increased his pace to a light jog to better keep pace with the small woman.   
  
Below in the pit, the fighting had already begun. Stormtroopers paraded snarling, red Gundarks on metal chains at the edges of the sand in a promise of further gore.   
  
The guttural bleat of an unarmed Gotal reverberated through the air as they were stuck in the gut by a loosed beast and went down. The death knell was followed closely by a crescendo of cries from the spectators, with wails of “murderer!” interspersed with screams of ecstatic pleasure from the more blood thirsty witnesses.  
  
Finn caught up to Rose, who was standing frozen at the assigned meeting spot, looking down helplessly into the arena. Assuming she had become overcome by the horror, it took him a few extra seconds to fully process what she was looking at specifically and its implications.  
  
“Oh no.”  
  
Down in the gladiator pit was a form familiar to Finn. He’d seen images of the man in an intelligence briefing provided before being set out on this mission; the green-yellow skin and curved horns of an Ovissian. Their contact, who was supposed to be here amongst the spectators but was instead on the floor of the arena with the prisoners. Boolio.  
  
And he was dying.  
  
Boolio had been struck in the neck by a Gamorrean’s axe, green blood spewing out of the ugly wound as he desperately fled across the arena and away from his attacker. The bright, viscous liquid splattered in arcs and soaked into dark forms on the sand.  
  
The Gamorrean advanced slowly, clearly wanting to draw the affair out. The pig-like man theatrically whirled its axe, snorting & squealing with a dark glee at the sport and spectacle its quarry was making. Boolio’s steps slowed as blood loss began to take its toll. He had been granted a weapon; a small, rusty knife that could barely be seen by the audience. It was becoming too cumbersome to even hold such a minimal object, and it slipped from his grasp.  
  
Finn gripped the railing before him and violently whipped his head around. Stormtroopers roamed up and down the rows of seating. It was a ten foot drop at least from the edge of the spectator area into the arena below, not to mention the laser-based defense grid. There was no way down.  
  
Boolio dropped to his knees, wheezing shallow breaths as his thermal worksuit became laden and stained with blood. The Gamorrean, spying an opportunity for a dramatic kill, started into a sprint. He raised his axe in both hands above his head, roaring in triumph as he approached.  
  
His path was suddenly blocked by a new gladiator, stepping out of the shadows as though appearing from thin air. A human this time, silver-haired and bearded. A man tall and aged but with a thick, strong frame. He wore a long, grey duster and a matching broadbrimmed rancher’s hat. Silver spurs glittered on his hide boots. The newcomer raised a rusty metal sword and, with one powerful two-handed stroke, sent the charging alien flying across the sand.  
  
The Gamorrean struck the wall a ‘thud’ that echoed around the arena.  
  
The crowd roared.   
  
The human gladiator lowered his weapon slowly as he turned to look back on Boolio, but the Ovissian had already slumped forward in death. A hand was stretched forward towards his rescuer, laying in a pool of blood. It lapped briefly against the gladiator’s boots, staining the spurs, before sinking into the sand.   
  
Rose’s head dove into Finn’s chest and he embraced her solemnly. Despite everything, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the new fighter in grey and silver.   
  
The cacophony of the spectators was pierced with a sudden booming voice that overtook every other piece of audio and demanded attention.  
  
“Is this it?” It was the gladiator, gesturing broadly to the audience with his old, rusted blade.   
  
Stormtroopers on the field seemed to assume he was requesting stronger foes and motioned to point a beast and him. But the oppressive wall of the man’s voice and the point of his sword stilled them.  
  
“Is this crying, this cheering, this noise... is that it?” The ground almost seemed to shake with each word. “Is this the only response you have to invasion, to persecution? To those coming down upon your world and casting you into the pit?”   
  
The gladiator’s voice roared throughout the space; unnaturally loud, as though assisted by the stadiums’ audio system. It was deep and authoritative, but with a slight wheeze as though he had a history breathing unsavory air. All mingled with a persistent hint of desperation.  
  
“I demand of you, why? Why persist within your own destruction through complacency? Do you not wish otherwise? Are you not witnessing this? Are you not alive?”  
  
Rose gripped at Finn’s arm.  
  
“Because I see so very many of you!”  
  
The rusted sword was raised and its pointed end slide across the spectators, ending directly leveled at the highest box seat which housed First Order officers. _  
  
“… and so very few of them!”_  
  
The rioting began almost immediately. Or maybe it had already started while the gladiator had been speaking. Finn had been transfixed. Rose grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him near violently.   
  
Down in the pit, the other warriors had turned against the guards and had begun to scale the smooth walls. One of the beasts, freed from its handler, swiped its paws at anything or anyone within immediate reach. The din of the crowd turned savage as troopers attempted to exert control. Blaster fire began to pop and hiss around the arena.  
  
With chants of “murderers!” the masses began advancing on the box seats.  
  
Finn frantically scanned the sand for the silver hair gladiator, but despite his large stature and presence to incite all this, he’d vanished.  
  
“We need to go.” Rose shook at Finn again and tugged on his forearm.   
  
Finn nodded and they turned to make their way down the row. They were in no condition to offer support, and were just as likely to be trampled by the rioting crowd as they were to help. With their contact dead, every second they wasted here made them a greater target.  
  
“Halt!”   
  
Finn’s line of sight hit the muzzle of a storm trooper’s rifle advancing on them and his stomach dropped. He attempted to pivot on his heels to shield Rose as best he could, and to potentially hurry her in the opposite direction.  
  
The sudden movement caused his hood to fall away.  
  
A change went over the trooper as he witnessed Finn’s face, his arms slackened, approach slowed, and gun lowered.  
  
“FN-2187…” he whispered with reverence.  
  
Finn froze, keeping a hand firmly behind himself and holding onto Rose as the chaos of the riot roared around them.  
  
Their personal stillness was broken in a flash as the trooper whipped his rifle up to fire a shot over Finn and Rose’s shoulder into another storm trooper who had been advancing behind them.   
  
The second trooper was knocked back violently from the force of the shot and tumbled into the seats below like a ragdoll.  
  
“Go! I’ll cover you.” Their new ally pointed frantically with two fingers towards the exit, turning swiftly to fire more shots into oncoming foes.  
  
Finn, still processing this display, was knocked into the present by the firm pull of Rose’s hand, and he allowed himself to be tugged after her. As he fled, he heard the telltale crunch of a blaster shot puncturing human flesh and a cry as the trooper... their trooper went down.  
  
Grimacing in despair, but not looking back, Finn continued his pace; hand clasped tightly in Rose’s as they ran out through a dark hallway and then out into the massive stretch of sky and prairies.   
The fighting had spilled outside as well. Storm troopers were attempting a more organized, and deadly form of crowd control by advancing on exit points in a uniform line with weapons drawn. But the pure size of the crowd was quickly overwhelming them.  
  
Dust was being kicked up from the waves of stomping feet, mixing with the iron and sulfur that permanently clung to the area from its mining days. It swept upwards into noxious plumes.  
  
Beginning to cough violently, Finn hurriedly directed them towards the vehicle lot. Their ship was hidden a good distance away, but they might find something to commandeer.  
  
Heads bent low against the grit of the storming dust, Finn thought briefly he saw a shape in the darkness as they approached the lot. A massive, human shaped figure that towered nearly thirty feet tall, with spikes on its shoulders and a helmet-shaped head. Maybe a First Order walker of some kind, parked nearby and ready to be deployed.  
  
He didn’t speak for fear of getting a mouthful of grit, and, as he attempted to shield his eyes to get a better look at the shape, it was gone.  
  
Just an illusion then, or someone's long shadow cast on all this dust.  
  
They ducked into the first vehicle they came across. A large, grey transport truck with antiquated rubber wheels, two exhaust pipes like horns, and a Shaak-catcher on its grill that seem to be comprised of massive knives pointing menacingly outwards. Its silver colouration was notable even in the thick rage of the storm, but it was also covered with scratched, gashes, and dents. Not that this was any concern of Finn and Rose; what mattered was it had a foolishly open door. They climbed up the high sitting cabin area and shut themselves in.  
  
Momentarily cut off from the storm and the chaos, Rose threw the hood of her cloak back and shook what seemed like a whole mine’s worth of filth and sand from her dark hair, letting out a sigh of relief. Finn coughed into his fist when he realized he’d been staring and set about brushing himself off as well. Rose smiled briefly, batting at him lightly and sending up another small dust cloud.  
  
The truck’s cabin area was surprisingly clean and well maintained compared to the sorry state of its external shell. There were two large seats, for the driver and immediate passenger, and two bucket seats facing each other just behind. A sizeable first-aid kit was held down with cords just behind them. There was an odd charm hanging from the rear-view mirror that Finn couldn’t help but notice; a circular bangle featuring a droid’s face in the centre of a red & yellow shield.  
  
Rose exhaled slowly and peered out the front windows; the dust storm had gotten worse. The sounds was muffled, but rioting still ranged outside. Smoke was beginning to come into the mix as part of the arena burned, and the occasional flash of blaster fire lit up the swirling particulate.  
  
Turning back to Finn, she eyed the steering column up & down and reached into her cloak for her tool kit.  
  
“Wanna help me bust this thing open real quick and take us for a spin back to the ship?” she waved a multitool loosely between two fingers.  
  
Finn gave a little half smile, pleased to see her bouncing back from what they’d just witnessed as he reached out to assist.   
  
Suddenly, the dashboard lit up along with a roar from the truck’s engine. The whole cabin shook with the rumbling force. Rose snapped her hands down to the seat, dropping her tools. There was a lurch, and the truck began to accelerate forward through the dust storm.  
  
“Finn?” Rose cried desperately, struggling to snap on the seat’s safety harness. The truck was blasting through the outpost’s region in a billow of grit, quickly accelerating towards the surrounding grasslands at frightening speed.  
  
“It must have been remotely activated!” He called back, one trembling hand fumbling with his own belt, while the other desperately grasped at the wheel, trying to regain control.   
  
He was able to briefly cant the vehicle’s direction slightly, though not control their velocity and, within seconds, the wheel locked unyielding in place. This was accompanied by what sounded like a brief, indignant growl emanating from the dash.  
  
Now fully clear of the outpost and into the prairies, the air was clear again. Finn and Rose’s vision was limited to what the truck’s headlights lit up, a steady yellow-green pool of bright tall grass in front of them that was eaten up under the tires and then produced again as they rumbled forward at a breakneck pace.  
  
Suddenly, a flash of brown and glittering eyes interrupted the repeating oncoming view. A Loth-cat had bounded into their path and was puffed with rage and terror as they bore down upon it.  
  
Rose screamed.  
  
There was a horrifying screech of metal grinding together as the truck slammed its own brakes. Finn and Rose were thrown forward with enough force to knock a bantha wrong side up, their bodies straining against their safety belts. The truck hissed and wailed as it slowed along the grass & soil. And then there was silence.   
  
The infernal transport had ground itself to a full stop. Air rushed out from underneath it in a whoosh. Mechanical bits inside the truck’s hood clinked and clanked as they wound themselves down from the sudden exertion. The Loth-cat, who had been mere inches away from being violently impaled by the truck’s deadly front bumper, unfurled itself from its defensive crouch and hissed at them before dashing off into the night.  
  
Finn, near manic with relief, breathed out a sigh that was half a laugh and lowered his head towards the wheel. Then screamed sharply as he caught sight of a new figure before them  
  
Rose jumped from Finn’s outburst and clutched at her chest.   
  
It was the gladiator.  
  
He was standing directly in front of the truck, knee deep in the grass; lit up by the headlights with silver hair gleaming and a face full of rage. Up close, Finn noted, the gladiator had peculiar scars trailing vertically down from his eyes and over his mouth. They served to make him look all the rawer and more volatile. His eyebrows were also massive and thick, visible even under the brim of his hat, curved over his bright brown eyes that had a decidedly red quality… perhaps he wasn’t as human as he appeared.   
  
The gladiator took a step towards the truck with clenched fists.  
  
“Get. Out.”   
  
Had Finn and Rose been of sounder minds at the time, they might have noticed that the gladiator’s voice rumbled out from somewhere within the truck itself, as opposed to his dry, snarling lips.  
  
They barreled for the doors, nearly strangling themselves on the seatbelts they’d forgotten to unclip in the process, before eventually tumbling out into the cool grass. There was a faint smell of burnt rubber in the air, likely from the rough stop the truck’s old tires had made on the soil.  
  
Finn rushed to Rose’s side, helping her to her feet and trying to place himself as much as possible between her small form and the looming gladiator. He was even taller and broader in person, potentially rivaling Kylo Ren in terms of sheer height, though that may have been assisted by the hat and billowing coat.  
  
“We’re sorry!” Finn gasped, holding a flat, empty hand to show he was unarmed and backing away.  
  
The gladiator, seeming pacified by their compliance, simply rolled his eyes and stalked towards the driver’s door.  
  
“Don’t you…” he paused, seeming to consider how best to address the pair. His voice was deep and growling. “… young people know it’s dangerous to get into strange vehicles?”  
  
“Not like we really had a choice,” Rose hissed from behind Finn, rubbing at the purple bruise the safety belt had left on her neck. “Thanks to the little stunt you pulled back there.”  
  
Surprised at her forthright attitude, the gladiator paused, put both hands behind his back. and leaned forward towards them.  
  
“Ah, well, my apologies then.” He had a very blunt way of sounding insincere.  
  
“I mean…” Rose continued, now looking more properly at him. “You were right.”  
  
Finn’s eyes went back and forth between them while keeping a hand firmly on Rose. So long as nobody was pulling out a weapon, this was fine.  
  
This legitimately did seem to put the old man off balance, his scarred face going slack with brief astonishment, though he recovered quickly.  
  
“The people here hate the First Order more than anything,” Rose continued, “They just needed a spark to get them to fight back against that whole murder pit operation.”   
  
“If that’s the case...” The gladiator rumbled and grinned with a mouth full of very large and shiny, white teeth, “Then I am happy to have been of service. Though I confess my motives selfish.”   
  
Rose tilted her head and drew against Finn slightly.  
  
“But… that is hardly your concern.”  
  
He turned back towards the truck, “I thank you for bringing me-“ he hesitated, “That is to say, my truck out here. Such excellent valet service.”  
  
Foot spurns jingled as he walked. “I will be on my way.”  
  
 _Is… is that it?_  
  
 _He’s leaving; don’t let him leave._  
  
“Wait!” Finn called, jumping forward. The gladiator turned his head, looking just a little angrier and just a little more frightening than he had mere seconds ago.  
  
“Listen…” Finn put out his hand, ring forward and twisted it to revel the hidden symbol. “We’re with the Resistance.”  
  
Rose, following her partner’s lead, showcased her ring’s symbol too, while the gladiator blinked back at them under the brim of his hat.  
  
“We’re dedicated to stopping the First Order,” Rose supplied, when the rings were met with silence.  
  
The gladiator’s massive eyebrows raised. “Well, pardon my criticism, but your efforts leave something to be desired.”  
  
Rose grunted indignantly but didn’t directly reply. The gladiator continued speaking, seeming to get caught up in a thread of passionate ire.   
  
“Those wretches you call the First Order stole Co-” he blinked rapidly, “My beloved grandchild away from me here on this world. I couldn’t move at the time.” His fists clenched and he snarled towards the ground, spittle spraying from dry, cracked lips. “Couldn’t stop them!” Finn stepped forward his hand still out. The gladiator’s gaze snapped up and seemed to come back to himself. “I thought I might find clues to his whereabouts at the arena night. But there was nothing of use, so I saw no reason to let it continue.” He shrugged his large shoulders and looked off into the distance.  
  
“What’s your name?” Finn blurted out.   
  
The gladiator looked back to Finn but said nothing. A wind kicked up and whistled through the grass.  
  
“What do we call you?” Rose came forward, fussing slightly with her robe before casting it back into the grass completely. She was wearing dark pants and an off-white work shirt. Her Haysian ore medallion glimmered briefly in the moonlight.  
  
“Like… I’m Rose Tico. And this is-“  
  
“I’m Finn!” Finn stepped forward and reflexively put his hand out to be shaken. The gladiator continued to stare. “Just Finn.”  
  
“I know what a name is!” he snapped, looking down at Finn’s hand suspiciously. He eventually clasped it with a half-smile.  
  
“I am… Well, if you want to call me something; Megs.”  
  
After a beat, he concluded. “Just Megs.”  
  
“Megs?” replied Finn, one eyebrow up. “That’s your name?” Such a short moniker hardly seemed appropriate for such a large man.  
  
Megs scoffed and threw his head back in mild frustration, the cords of his neck working as he spoke. “Well, if it offends you that much, please feel free to imagine it’s something else.”  
  
“Alright, alright. I just may do that.” Finn waved a placating hand as he also removed his dusty robe and let it fall casually to the earth. He brushed further debris off his blue pants and adjusted his vest. “Let me think of something.”  
He could overhear Rose giggling a little behind him.   
  
After a moment of looking the enormous, silver-haired man up and down, he relented. “Then again, maybe Megs is fine.”  
  
“Finn.” The gladiator gave nod in acknowledgment and tipped his hat.  
  
Rose pointed to herself and repeated, “Rose.” And then to the fawn coloured Loth-cat that had rounded back and was sniffing with suspicion at the truck’s cooling tires. “Kitty!”  
  
The Loth-cat seemed to find the truck’s scent distasteful, and bunched itself up into a hiss. Without missing a second, Megs raised up his scarred lips and sounded off a pitch perfect imitation of a Loth-cat’s snarl, causing the animal to jump and sprint away.  
  
“Cute!” Rose declared a little too loudly before slapping a hand over her mouth while her round cheeks went pink. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to say that.  
  
Megs gave a little cackle of laughter that was halfway between heartwarming and off-putting.  
  
Recovering quickly, Rose’s eyes grabbed Finn’s and she jabbed her head repeatedly in Megs’ direction. Finn nodded briefly in response. He didn’t need to be told twice what she was thinking.  
  
“Come with us.” Finn said with more strength than he felt.  
  
Megs’ laughter slowed into an inquisitive growl and he looked at Finn with a mixed of apprehension and bemusement.  
  
“You said you and your kid got jumped on this planet, right? Do you have a ship to get off world?” When Megs didn’t respond, Finn gestured towards the dark rolls of prairie in the vague direction of their landing site. “Because we do!”  
  
“Fighting back against the First Order is the best way to find your grandchild,” Rose added. “And… you were right. Again.” She sighed and flopped her heavily arms against her sides, “The Resistance needs all the help it can get.”   
  
Megs looked between them, seeming uncomfortable and pulled back.  
  
Finn kept his eyes on him. There was something… a voice or feeling that it was deeply important that this man come with them. He couldn’t explain it.  
  
Had Poe been there, he would have likely called it a ‘gut feeling’ and said it was on account of Megs’ natural charisma. Had Rey been there, she might have said it was the will of the Force, or that it was pragmatic to acquire strong allies.  
  
But they weren’t here, so Finn had to handle it his own way.  
  
“Help you?” Megs all but whispered, “You don’t want my help. I couldn’t even… Can’t even…” He trailed off, but quick as a snake, snapped to look at them dead in the eye and continued with venom in his tone. “Know this. I am not a good person. I’ve done… things.”  
  
Looking down at the swaying grass, Finn licked his lips. “Well, hey. A lot of people can say that.”  
  
Megs didn’t appear to be listening anymore though. He looked off into the distance, the way they came. Plumes of thick, choking smoke lit underneath by red and orange were rising in rolls. Monad Outpost was burning. “Though I’d dearly love to _just rip_ into those that snatched my child away… war tends to bring out the worst in me.”  
  
His voice was almost wheezing and strained. “My life’s work is dedicated to the safety and enrichment of my grandchild’s home now.” He shook his head slightly. “I am a rescue worker. Full-time commitment that it is. The preservation of life… I swore to lose my taste for causing suffering.”  
  
 _They blow you up today, you can blow them up tomorrow._  
  
“This isn’t a war like that!” Finned cried out, sharply and suddenly enough for Megs’ eyes to snap back on him.  
  
“It’s…” Finn breathed heavily, trying to get the words out, cursing that he wasn’t as eloquent as Poe or general Organa. “It’s a rescue. The soul of galaxy is at stake and we’re trying to save it.”  
  
Rose was at his side instantly, “If you’re a rescue worker, you should understand that, right?”  
  
Flabbergasted and potentially a little cowed, Megs backed up further. It was clear he was growing frustrated with them. His awful, scarred face was twisted into a grimace; a low growl was broiling in his throat. “I think you’ll find everyone tries to justify their conflicts thusly-"  
  
“Please!” Finn tried to pour strength and ‘must’ into his voice without sounding like the lost child he knew he still was. But this was too important to run away from.   
  
_Please..._  
  
 _Please… I can help you._  
  
Megs was full on growling now, but in the cautious manner an Akk dog desperate for food and care may snarl at an approaching hand until it was proven safe. He was looking intently into Finn’s eyes. They were indeed red after all, but Finn found that he didn’t really care all that much about that.   
  
“You...” Megs said softly, “You remind me so much of…” He stopped and shook his head suddenly; the arrogant smirk and grim set of his eyes had returned. “Very well. You’ve convinced me.”  
  
Rose clasped her hands together and gave a little jump, despite the serious face and posture she’d held only seconds before. Megs chuckled at this and put his hands on his hips.  
  
Finn exhaled loudly while clapping his own palms together, “Great! Excellent! That’s… I’m so-“  
  
Megs was already turning to stride to the vehicle, long coat billowing in the wind.   
  
“I just hope whatever you flew in on is big enough to carry my truck.”  
  
Rose scampered towards the passenger side, “Hey, can you do anymore of those animal noises?”

***  
  
“So. Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Nickel was wheeling slightly back and forth on her tire feet as she mulled over the tale Cody Burns had spun for her. “Megatron, leader of the Deceptions, champion gladiator of Kaon, ‘Everything I touch is food for my hunger. My hunger for power!’… that Megatron.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He called an end to the Great War. The war that turned our planet dark and uninhabitable. Had a change of heart and now lives on a dirt planet swarming with squishes, putting fires out, and pulling small carnivorous mammals down from high places at the request of their owners. Do I have that right?”  
  
“They’re called cats,” Cody explained. “And it’s mostly just Mr. Pettypaws. I think he likes the attention. But yes, that’s... basically it.”  
  
Kel nudged Cody between the shoulder blades and whispered, “And this is your _grandfather_ , Cody?”  
  
Cody replied over his shoulder in a hushed voice. “It’s complicated.”   
  
He continued, louder, speaking to Nickel once again. “Look, I know Megatron did… a lot of bad things in Cybertron’s past. But he works hard to make things better on Griffin Rock now. People can change! You guys do it all the time. Sometimes even into cars.” He waved his hands up and down in Nickel’s direction. “Sometimes into medical carts!”   
  
“I think we’re talking about very different things,” Nickel replied flatly. She glided a few metres off and stared up at the dark ceiling. “You know… When I signed up in Megatron’s army, he promised a better future for us Mini-Cons. Total breakdown of the caste system! Self-determination, the right to live alone or bond with whoever we wanted. ‘Every shape shall serve their own purpose’!” Her deep blue eyes turned downward “But what I found was just another crowd of giant brutes who wanted to graft me onto their arm, chop up some poor unsuspecting sod, and then throw me in a tool box once the horror show was done. No one really cared about us. No one really cared about… me.”  
  
Cogman came forward slowly and put a hand on her round shoulder. She reached back and gripped it in kind.  
  
“So… If Megatron really has changed, then I want to see that for myself. Maybe I can apologize for abandoning the cause. Maybe he can apologize to me, though I doubt that very much.”  
  
Cody smiled. “You’d be surprised what he’s capable of.”  
  
Nickel stretched and rubbed the back of her short neck, producing a few metallic-sounding pops. “The Lord Megatron I remember was only motivated by Optimus Prime.”  
  
“Well, when we find him, you can see for yourself.” Cody turned to Cogman. “And you. Once we get back to our dimension, you can see Cybertron… you can see home again!” He gestured broadly to the whole hallway of children. “I think seeing home again is something we all want.”  
  
A sea of tired, glassy eyes with just the tiniest flicker of hope blinked back at him. There was a murmur of approval.  
  
“Righto, young master!” Cogman marched with weapon at the ready towards the still locked hallway door. “Then let’s not dilly dally.”  
  
He held his pointer finger up as he paced. “This ship’s operating with a skeleton crew. The captive children outnumber the enemy more than ten to one." he turned on his heels to continue marching in the opposite direction. "We knock a few heads about and this vessel is ours to roam the cosmos with. Now, how’s that grab you, eh?”  
  
To Cogman’s surprise however, Cody seemed less than enthused. His gaze had dropped to one of the downed troopers on the floor, the one Cogman had hit first, with his helmet twisted about.  
  
“Kel…” Cody began softly, “You said the First Order rounds children up to use in their army, yea?”  
  
“Right,” Kel replied grimly. “That guy, all of them on this ship… They’re probably luckless orphans that got picked up and conditioned to fight years ago.”  
  
The hallway had gone silent, the crowd of children looking at their fidgeting hands or to the floor.  
  
Breathing a little harshly, Cody finally turned to Cogman. “Can… you take off his helmet?”  
  
The task took some doing, as the force from Cogman’s elbow had badly cracked the material into a shape it was never intended for. Eventually, Cogman simply set his fingers under the edge and pried the object off in two pieces with a splintering crack  
  
A pale man’s face lay swollen and bleeding lightly on the dark floor. Shallow breath wheezing in and out of cracked lips. He had reddish brown hair and soft features, twisted though they were by a broken nose and a splatter of blood  
forming an almost hand-like shape creeping across his skin.  
  
Cogman looked down at the broken pieces of helmet, to the other downed troopers, and then at the whimpering children. Some of hid their faces into the shoulders of friends, cellmates, or siblings for fear of the ghastly spectacle.   
  
Servo’s ear lowered and he whined.  
  
Almost inaudible, Cogman murmured to himself to be mindful of the fragility of biological life, and then briskly turned to Cody again.  
  
“Very well, the escape pods then. We stuff our foes inside and blast them, non-lethally mind you, away. Does that suit?”  
  
“Yes please, thank you,” Cody replied. He found himself moving the troopers carefully into the recovery position, almost automatically.   
  
Kel and Eila breathed simultaneous sighs.   
  
“Don’t get me wrong,” Kel began, crouching to help Cody with the leg positioning. “I don’t have any personal sympathy for these guys. But my sister and I have seen enough violence for a lifetime.”  
  
“Yeah…” Eila was squatting on her heels near the two boys, watching them work.   
  
“Who wants to look at human fluids more than they have to anyways?” Nickel commented brightly. She wheeled up next to the door and began working the control panel.  
  
“Now, stay behind us at all times kids.” Cogman stepped to the front and checked the rifle’s sights. “Things are likely to get a little waxy at the start.”  
  
***  
  
At the start of the rotation, the First Order Conscript Transport and Primary Education ship (serial number AX-00487) had been laden with children properly filed away in cells with just the right amount of armed soldiers patrolling its glossy halls. Everything was calm, orderly, and firmly under First Order control.  
  
And by the end of the rotation it was not.  
  
Survivors from the incident, picked up from far flung moons and planets where their escape pods had dropped, reported the whole affair had happened quickly. They had been going about their duties when concussive shots had been heard and it went dark.  
  
Some reported seeing a ‘naked’ protocol droid holding a weapon. Some said it was a little white and teal droid with wheels for feet yelling curses and that was the last things they heard. Others claimed to have spied one or two loose children and been pursing them down a corridor before getting knocked out. But all had woken up far away from their ship and mission, crammed into escape pods and adrift.  
  
Days later, a young man with auburn hair and a broken nose would be picked up by Resistance outreach. He would tell a similar story to other refugees from his former ship, though with massive blank spots in his memory and a deep desire to enlist against the First Order.   
  


***   
  
Cody stood on the AX-00487’s bridge with Servo panting happily by his side. The now large group of free children flooded the room and pressed their faces to the glass looking out into space as they talked excitedly amongst themselves.

  
Kel had Eila up in his arms and spun her around in delight while Nickel fussed with the ship’s controls. Cogman was busily counting how many orders of celebratory cake and milk he would need to put together from the mess hall.  
  
In the hubbub, Cody kept his eyes on the massive sea of stars overhead, in front of, and all around him. Thousands upon thousands of glittering lights. More than you could ever see out of town. Probably more than could ever be seen on earth at all.  
  
“Well Servo…” He scratched between the dog’s ears. “I don’t think we’re in Maine anymore.”  
  
Nickel slapped two metal hands against the command console. “We’re up and running! Hyperdrive engines primed and ready.”  
  
The children began turning upwards towards the pilot’s area, their whispering voices grew louder. Cody pulled his attention away from the stars and down to the crowd.  
  
“Let’s take stock of everyone’s origins. See who we can’t give an easy ride home to. Everyone else… well..”   
  
“The Resistance!” Eila and Kel called back in unison.

“They’re opposed to the First Order,” added Kel. “Maybe they can help.”   
  
“Do all that before trying to find Megatron?” asked Nickel, though she didn’t seem at all surprised.  
  
“This is the life of a rescue worker,” Cody replied amiably as he strode towards the end of the ramp to get a nearly 360 degree view of the bridge. “Besides, I’m sure he’s looking for me too.”  
  
Servo barked in agreement and bounded around in a circle.  
  
“Alrighty.” Nickel turned back towards the console. “AX-00487, making the jump the hyperspace.”  
  
“Oh, that name’s gotta go!” Kel winced, walking up beside Cody and pulling him into a side hug. “Can’t you think of anything better?”  
  
“Me?” Cody looked out into the stars, hands on his hips, and ran his mind through stories Heatwave had told him about Cybertronian adventurers of old.   
  
“What about the… The Axalon?”  
  
“Works for me,” Nickel replied as the engines thrummed beneath them and the starry sky bent into streaks of glowing light. “Want to do one more honor?”   
  
Cody smiled and nodded. “Noble!”  
  
Kel clapped him on the shoulder. Cogman picked up Eila and carried her on one arm towards the group. Her yellow eyes were bright and full, staring out into the shifting blues and greys of hyperspace.  
  
Servo pranced on metal paws to the end of the walkway and marveled at the rolling waves of light.  
  
Following his dog, Cody extended an open hand towards the ship’s heading. The twirl of colours played on his skin. He closed his eyes and exhaled gently.  
  
 _Just one second at a time, Cody._  
  
 _We’re got a long way to go, but we’re going home._  
  
His eyes snapped open before firmly calling the command.   
  
“Roll out!”


	2. The Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey, Poe, and BB-8 travel to Yavin 4 in search of Maz Kanata. While running from the First Order, they stumble head first into the illustrious, the beautiful, and (of course) always humble Autobot Medic: Knock Out.  
> Meanwhile, Kylo Ren searches for answers in the swamps of Mustafar, capturing a strange and powerful "spark".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, shifting gears here a bit in chapter 2 to check in on Rey and the Supreme Leader. Big thank you again to Jazvolt for beta-reading and editing. It's still a lot of set up for now, but you can count on Knock Out to inject some fun into the proceedings. As always, comments and kudos go a long way.

Rey sat cross-legged, floating above the scuffed floor of the Millennium Falcon. Her eyes were closed. The ends of her off-white sash just barely brushed the metal surface below. One of the many porgs inhabiting the ship was enthusiastically chewing on it. Another chirped up at her, unperturbed by the human’s lack of gravity and begging for attention.

Pieces of the Skywalker lightsaber slowly orbited her like tiny, metal moons. They bobbed gently at first, then swirled faster and more frantically. They twisted and whirred as she tried desperately to reforge the weapon. Parts clicked into place. The biting porg paused in its attack on her clothing and looked up with wide, liquid eyes. Rey inhaled deeply and outstretched one hand, the other gripping her thigh tightly in focus. More pieces together now, the familiar shape of a lightsaber hilt was emerging.

She had it…

Her eyebrows twitched together sharply. Everything sprang apart as though repelled by powerful magnets and clattered to the floor. A great shape destroyed, rendered into sad little pieces of nondescript and uninteresting machinery.

She’d lost it.

Dropping down equally suddenly on to her behind, Rey snarled in displeasure and clenched both hands into fists. The frightened porgs cried and flapped away in a flurry of brown feathers. One fled to a gnawed-out hole in the stained walls which housed its nest. The other fluttered some distance away, but eventually turned back to look at its human.

Rey wiped a hand over her forehead and then dragged it down her face to cover her mouth as she blinked rapidly. Another failure.

Perhaps this was all a fool’s errand anyways, trying to recreate this lightsaber after all that it had done. And after all that had been done to it. But the Resistance needed a Jedi to rally behind, and though Leia’s knowledge from her time spent with Luke in his younger days was great, she would be the first to admit she was no true Jedi. That task fell to Rey. A burden she would gladly bear for her Resistance, her friends, her home.

_But what was a Jedi without a lightsaber?_

For a moment, Rey could swear she heard the sardonic tones of her departed teacher, Luke Skywalker, echoing her thoughts back at her in pointed mockery. Trying to communicate the problematic thought patterns she’d internalized. But she didn’t dwell on it. There wasn’t time.

Luke wasn’t here to deal with this, after all. It was just her.

The porg that had not retreated into the wall waddled over and, with a bit of clumsy struggling, jumped onto Rey’s knee. It presented its round tummy out for scritches, which Rey obliged.

“S’alright…” she murmured, half to the animal and half to herself.

Heavy steps and the rustle of fur came up from behind the pair. Chewbacca entered the cargo hold-turned-Jedi-study-and-repair-area and gurgled out a call to her.

Rey’s eyes turned up and she smiled, not so much the information he’d brought, but simply the sight of her friend.

“We’re here, then?”

***

Wetyin's Colony on Yavin 4 was lovely and Poe Dameron was a lovely man.

They might have been mistaken for a newly arrived couple, with BB-8 rolling merrily between them like a child as Poe cheerfully pointed out landmarks from his childhood, waved hello to old friends, and chatted breathlessly about growing up on the jungle moon. The image was spoiled by the darts of Rey’s nervous eyes as they flicked back and forth across the lush landscape and pleasant homesteads, her face tight with concern.

It wasn’t often that she, or any member of the Resistance for that matter, were able to walk freely and without disguise in a casual residential setting like this; being the Galaxy’s most wanted and all. But the First Order’s presence had been minimal here so far, making it the ideal place for Maz Kanata to lay low in the home of Poe’s maternal grandfather until she could be picked up by an escort suitable to one of her importance.

The trio continued along the dirt roadway. Local farmers passed by them, pushing their carts at a lax pace and occasionally stopping to greet Poe. The sun was shining warm and golden in a bright blue sky of late afternoon. Birdsong carried faintly in from the forest, and lazy insects buzzed and fluttered by. Children played in the branches of the large, broadleaf trees that grew around the buildings.

There was a notably out-of-place landspeeder parked off to the side of the road. Highly conspicuous with its glossy red paint job and sleek design; looking as though it ought to be displayed on a showroom floor in bustling city or picking a high roller up outside of Canto Bight. Rey observed that it had a restraining bolt clamped conspicuously beneath it, weighing it down, and another on its steering wheel. The junker within her had already put together five different ways of removing those eyesores and driving off with the new meal-ticket before she stopped herself. There was no need for that now.

Perhaps sensing her distraction, Poe’s chatter increased in volume and exuberance.

“And that’s where Banes knocked me off a picnic table and broken my arm twice. Totally by accident! I wasn’t even upset because the clinic had glow-in-the-dark casts at the time. But my mom, oh boy! She pitched a fit.”

Poe gestured broadly to an outdoor eating area being enjoyed by several residents. An older woman even gave him a second glace and, upon recognizing his smiling face, waved enthusiastically in greeting.

Rey turned her head away. Although the settlers of Weytin’s Colony had cleared space for roads, buildings and fields, the jungle was not far off, and the area positively vibrated with life. The hum of people within the colony echoed through the Force. She tried to ground herself in that; removing her focus ever so slightly from the here and now, and sunk into the moving energy that surrounded her.

It was… easier that way, sometimes. A way of coasting through times when people showcased history she simply couldn’t relate to. They were asking to partake in a shared understanding of childhood, parents, school yard pranks, and skinned knees that got addressed with scolding and treats. This was not a past Rey could recognize or even pretend to. But the Force, a primal source of life, the living energy that bound them all together. That she understood. Or at least, it felt more natural than smiling along.

Poe was saying something to her again, pointing up ahead to yet another charming domicile, this one framed by fruit trees and a sprawling vegetable garden.

“That’s it!” Poe declared with a grin and began sprinting forward. BB-8 chirped playfully and followed at his heels, bouncing across the uneven ground.

Rey kept her pace, now needing to make the effort to pull her consciousness back to the present. Her expression was thin. She _liked_ Poe; really, she did. But they lacked the easily friendship and connection she had found so immediately with Finn.

_Finn…_

Finn had blossomed so much within the Resistance over the last while, as had his relationship with Rose. He was more confident and quicker to laugh. He grew his hair longer and freer, to spite old First Order regulations. He talked about the future, planning for times of peace. Though Rey would never break his trust by sharing it, she knew he planned to one day ask Rose to make a family with him.

Seeing him grow and change filled Rey with a bittersweet happiness. She loved Rose, with her sharp tongue that just as easily scolded as soothed her friends on their roughest days. Rey admired Rose’s kindness and how strong she was, yet, beneath all that, there was wellspring of emotions that Rey didn’t even have names for. She was delighted each day she saw Rose and Finn together because she knew how good they were together and how happy they made each other. But as they drew closer together, Rey felt herself slowly being shut away. There was a future for them, their relationship; it could grow and flourish. And as for Rey…

_Well…_

The less she thought about relationships right now, the better. Focusing on her Jedi training, refining her connection to the Force. That ought to be her focus.

That, and fixing up a lightsaber.

Seeing that Rey wasn’t following closely, Poe turned around and waved boyishly back at her, BB-8 wheeling in tight circles around his human’s legs.

Rey tried for a smile, though she was sure it looked artificial, and jogged towards him. There was a part of her, a deep, sad part, that knew Poe’s enthusiastic attempts to bond with her were based around a desire to be close to Finn’s best friend.

Something darker still gnawed into her heart at night. The knowledge that, honestly, Poe was looking to please and endear himself to The Last Jedi. The beacon of hope and the weapon he, as a Resistance leader, needed to end this war and ensure a future for Finn, for Rose, and for all their friends.

She couldn’t blame him for being pragmatic. It was a value the scavenger that grew up in the harsh sands of Jakku respected. In her heart, she would always carry the girl who calculated with great care the worth of each piece of machinery her eyes fell across. The girl who wouldn’t cry no matter how badly her heart or body ached for fear of wasting precious hydration. Besides, the Resistance was her family now, and she was ready to sacrifice everything to bring them the peace and victory they so rightfully deserved. Even if that made her relationship with Poe, with his handsome face and easy smiles, effectively no better than a lightning syphon, directing and channelling the energy of a mighty storm.

Despite all of that, it was… lonely… to be looked at with reverence and expectation without truly being understood for who she was beyond being a Jedi.

But Rey could handle lonely. Or at least she could tell herself that she did.

Seeming satisfied at her increased pace, Poe turned back towards his grandfather’s house. BB-8 whirled up to Rey and beeped an inquiry, his head tilting sideways.

“I’m fine,” she whispered down at the white and orange droid. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Still looking up in question, BB-8 rolled slowly by her side.

“I’m excited to see Maz again,” Rey continued, trying to force her voice into sounding brighter. “Once we have her with us, _everything’s_ sure to go a lot more smoothly.”

The droid replied with a warble.

“Well, as smoothly as can be reasonably be expected, with our luck.”

***

Poe’s grandfather was just as handsome as his daughter’s son. The deep lines in his dark skin only served to highlight his natural good looks and warm eyes. He had snowy white hair which he wore long in a ponytail that swept past his shoulders, and strong arms that pulled Poe into a tight embrace.

“Ah, getting so big, eh?” The man laughed, planting loud, dual kisses on Poe’s cheeks.

For his part, Poe Dameron, hero pilot of the Resistance, was rendered giggling and childlike in the presence of his beloved patriarch.

“Ack, gramps,” Poe protested, though clearly glowing under the attention. “Not in front of a _girl_.”

“And this must be Rey!” Releasing his grandchild, Señor Bey extended his hands out to Rey in greeting. But Rey held back just far enough so as make even the most enthusiastic grasp and embrace difficult.

Not that she had anything against being drawn into the grip of this lovely, warm man. But it didn’t feel right to soak up even an ounce of affection that wasn’t rightfully hers. This person had practically raised Poe when his parents were off saving the galaxy in one war, and then tragically survived his child only to see Poe off fighting in another war. A small moment, but it only served to illustrate Rey’s internal resolve. She didn’t have people beyond the Resistance, so she needed to work hard for those who did. Then they could get back to their people. And hug them, get kissed by them, be embarrassed by them, and everything else. It wouldn’t be proper for her to crave more or take more now.

Right?

Recovering from Rey’s subtle retreat, Mr. Bey was already down on his knees (with a bit of a groan and a mumble of “arthritis be damned!”) to fuss at BB-8’s round body as one would greet a beloved pet or baby.

“And you brought your little metal boy!”

With the old man now bent over, Rey scanned his living space at they stood in the entryway. It was a large house, likely afforded by his and his daughter’s early settler status on Yavin 4 and her exemplary military service. It was homey and humble, with floral drapes, comfortable looking green sofas, and earthen cookware in the kitchen. A dinner of meats and root vegetables was halfway presented on the dinner table and slower dishes still sizzling on the stove. As usual, once food entered her senses, it was hard for Rey to focus on anything else. But there was an absence within the space; a lack she had noticed even as they’d approached, but dearly hoped she’d been mistaken.

“Where’s Maz?” Rey instantly regretted the sharpness in her voice, and how she had interrupted the beginnings of a friendly conversation between Poe and his grandfather as the man was helped back to his feet.

Seeing Rey’s expression and hard eyes, Poe attempted to reset the tone. “Yea, where are you hiding her grandpa?”

BB-8 beeped and looked up.

But Mr. Bey cast his gaze aside, rubbing the back of his neck under his soft hair and looking guilty. Rey didn’t need to hear what he was about to say. The Force, or rather the empty space left by Maz’s fantastic presence within the Force, told Rey all she needed to know.

“Maz, she… I’m afraid she’s already left, kiddo.”

Poe’s face fell and he looked back and forth between Rey and his grandfather.

Mr. Bey put his hands on his hips and looked down, “Stormtrooper sweep came through just a few days back. Didn’t find her, but she got spooked and took the first transport she could hitch outta here.” He sighed heavily, “Wish she would’ve stayed. Real fire-cracker, that one. Reminds me of your mother in all the best ways.”

Rey stared ahead dully as Poe and his grandfather continued to speak with each other.

No Maz.

No Maz with her knowing eyes and infinite knowledge of the past. No Maz to call her child and tell her everything was going to be okay. No Maz to help her fit the pieces of the old Skywalker lightsaber together. They had come here for no one.

_None of it._

Yet again, Rey found herself waiting and wanting.

Just Rey. With broken pieces and broken promises.

“But why didn’t you let us know before we flew all the way out here?” groused Poe, presumably trying to sound like a proper Resistance leader, but ended up sounding petulant.

His grandfather’s cheeks had a dusting of pink, “I just wanted to see you so badly, son! You’re so busy with the Resistance, just like Shara was. Never knowing when you’re going to be coming home! I thought this might be my last-"  
  
But Poe was already drowning out his grandfather’s worries by pulling him into a strong embrace. BB-8 whirled around their ankles. Lacking arms, he smooshed his round head into their calves as best he could.

Feeling intrusive, Rey pulled back further, but was stopped when Mr. Bey reached into his pants’ pocket and produced a small round projection disk.

“She left a message for you, Rey; said you’d know what to do.”

He slipped the disk into a hand she didn’t remember holding out and Rey looked down at it. A piece of metal was a poor substitution for Maz, but perhaps it was all she ever should have reasonably expected.

She activated the stored information to play. A small, holographic protection of Maz Kanata popped into view, hovering just over the disk. Maz was rendered blue in the recorded software and slightly garbled by scanlines.

“Ah, Rey!” the woman’s warm voice crackled through the static. “Sorry to give you the runaround, child. But it seems I’m just far too popular right now.” The hologram of Maz turned her tiny, wrinkled hands up in a shrug, “Though really, who can resist me and my charms?”

She continued, looking pointedly up at the flesh and blood Rey, serious in tone now. “There is little you could learn from this old woman now anyways. My guidance could only be minimal at best, and at worst, I may direct you in ways you were never meant to go.” She gave a slight chuckle, “I have many ideas of how the world should be, and how people should behave, and yet…”

Maz signed heavily and she clasped her palms together as though in prayer. “I know your path is clouded. I know that you are afraid. But this is the time when you need to forge your own way. You have a future you can strive for, and you have all you need.”

Something within the message disk activated at that moment. A door on its base snapped open, depositing a tiny, cool object into Rey’s waiting hand. Yet again, she didn’t need to look at it to know what it was. It had been singing in the Force to her the moment she’d touched the disk.

A gleaming, yellow Kyber crystal.

“This is my last gift to you.” Maz adjusted her goggles and glanced briefly over her shoulder as though distracted by something. She snapped her fingers suddenly. “Ah, tell that Wookie I’m thinking of him!”

Poe chuckled at that. Rey was vaguely aware she should react in kind too, but she just couldn’t muster anything at the moment.

Maz was back to looking at Rey with a wise smile. “The future is uncertain as always, but I have hope that we shall at least see each other again.” Maz reached a thin arm forward to the unseen recording device and blinked out of existence. The disk’s lights went dim.

Rey exhaled slowly, trying to school her face into something resembling determination and not the crushing frustration and despair she felt. The powerful gemstone weighed heavy in her palm. She was very aware of Poe’s, BB-8’s, and Poe’s grandfather’s eyes all on her. Something unspoken was hanging heavy in Rey’s mind. What use was a Kyber crystal in a laser sword that still lay in scrap pieces back in the Falcon?

Poe shifted uncomfortably.

Mr. Bey broken the silence by clapping his hands together loudly. “Well, there you have it. But since you’re here, why not stay for dinner?” he gestured over one shoulder with his closed hands back at the kitchen with all its good smells.

That, at least, got Rey’s attention and was enough to break her face into brief, but legitimate excitement. Regardless of anything, she could always eat.

_***_

As expected, Poe’s grandfather’s cooking was fantastic. Rey was able, with her usual gusto, to cleanly put away several plates. She pointedly ignored Mr. Bey’s expression shifting from joy at someone so eagerly enjoying his spread, to legitimate concern that he might be serving someone with no “full” indicator in their brain space. Poe, habituated to Rey’s eating habits by this point, just laughed. He was delighted to be consuming something other than Resistance rations after all.

It was a momentary relief for Rey; to focus on something she could reliably do. And something that didn’t require much in the way of thinking.

But after the table had been cleared, and the two men settled into the living room for amiable chatter over tea, Rey was again reminded of her outsider status. It weighed unpleasantly down on her full belly, souring what had been a pleasant distraction.

Murmuring, nearly unnoticed, that she needed some air, Rey slipped past BB-8 and his concerned warbles into the warm outdoors. Nighttime in Wetyin's Colony was even more peaceful than the day. Warm lights shone from the windows of homesteads; a few stray colonists ambling slowly down the roads, but there were no more carts or beasts of burden milling about.

The jungle noise was stronger and sharper without the hubbub of people to drown it out. New cries of night birds echoed through the air, intermingled with the soft and distant roars of creatures Rey didn’t recognize. Insect life pattered over dirt and branches with a million tiny feet. Small mammals on quiet paws darted with bursts of nervous speed through patches of green in yards and along the paths.

Feeling the noise of life pepper against her skin like rainwater, Rey looked up into the night sky. She breathed out, gently & slowly. Her pace was lethargic.

After a fashion, she became aware she was not alone. She felt a familiar presence, one that had darkened her quarters, her days, and her memories briefly but constantly since Crait. Once more, she was within the sights of the man who tore the galaxy apart everyday to find her; throwing Resistance plans into ruins as he did. The natural ambiance of Yavin 4 seemed to fade, being replaced by the steady crunch of large, leather boots into rough, ashy soil.

Kylo Ren was walking beside her.

Rey spared him only the tiniest of glances out of the corner of one eye. If she was aware of him, then so too was he of her, and she certainly was in no mood to strike up a conversation. As usual, she couldn’t see where he was specifically, but she was detecting the pungent scent of sulphur on the air, upsetting her already tender insides. Noting also the white and grey filth that clung to his footwear, he was likely somewhere hot, volcanic, and unpleasant.

He was wearing his reforged helmet, the sight nauseating her further, obscured though it was by his cowl. The mask was an ugly, cracked thing. A mess of red fractures cut across the heavy material where each shard of the original had been painstaking fused back together in unnatural Sith kilns. She knew all this even without Kylo telling her. She wondered, perhaps, if the stench she was picking up was from the Sarrassian iron melting off that awful object and dripping back into hell where it belonged. But she also knew that was just wishful thinking.

He was walking close, barely an arm’s length away. By all appearances, if anyone could have perceived them, Kylo Ren and her could have passed for a pair of friends out on an evening stroll under the lovely sky.

Friends, or perhaps even…

_No._

They continued in the same direction, parallel to one another. Rey looking skyward. Kylo focused dead ahead, roaming forward on his long, dark legs. His cape billowed behind him, making him look even larger; inhumanly so. It almost appeared like a jungle beast had stolen out of the trees and was prowling the streets of this settlement. But given its proximity to Rey and their shared direction, perhaps he could be mistaken for her pet?

Rey shook those thoughts away rapidly. History had taught her to know better than to ever think she could tame him. She held no sway over his quest for power, or his rage. He’d proven as much with his actions. She reflected that it might be for the best that Kylo’s face was covered, hateful to her though that mask was. It kept her from seeing his face, his eyes, his hair…

His scar.

Without realizing she was doing so, Rey turned to look at him properly, only to have him vanish just as quickly as he’d appeared. The colony roads were empty.

_Fine. That was fine._

Her steps slowed as she eased back into the moment. Back into the night. Her left hand came up to absentmindedly touched the leather band covering the brutal marking on her right arm.

She’d come to the place where the red speeder had been, and still was, without realizing it. Poor beautiful, expensive thing. Sitting uselessly in the dust with pollen from the tropical plant life starting to settle on it. Did it honestly belong to someone here? Unlikely, and whoever did own it would be plenty upset by the low-grade environmental corrosion that was surely lowering its value by several thousand credits a second. It had a license plate anyways, reading ‘JOFY 892’.

She bent down, hands on her knees, to look at herself in one of the speeder’s side mirror. A fainter, warped refection stood alongside her in the vehicle’s glossy, red finish. Her brown hair was tied into a singular, complex bun that hung low on the back of her head. The consistent food and hygiene Rey was afforded now meant her hair was growing longer and thicker everyday. Managing it was a hassle she didn’t have the time, nor the or skill, for. She had no need or desire to retain the looping style she’d methodically maintained as a child, waiting for her parents. Thank goodness for Leia, who had fashioned the practical, yet attractive, bun with expert fingers. Noting it was a design the princess had worn in her younger days; before she’d even met her twin. Perhaps it was odd for the aged & noble general of the Resistance to dedicate time to fixing up a Jedi-in-training’s hair, but it was a pleasant bonding experience for both of them.

Rey made a face back at herself, momentarily childish. There was no one around. It was fine.

Except, there was. She could see Poe and BB-8 in the mirror, running full tilt and approaching from behind her. This was not the friendly pace of before, this was the aggressive, military race of Resistance operative at work. Poe’s knees were raised high as he ran, and BB-8’s head was leaning forward as he careened ahead of the human.

Rey stood quickly and whipped around to face them. Poe was still too far away for his voice to carry, but he was jabbing a finger into the skyline, demanding her attention. She followed it up. Stars were blotted out in parts by dark shapes, poisoning the view. Roars like wounded animals announced an arrival.

First Order ships. They had come back to Yavin 4.

“I already got Chewie on the ‘com to prep the Falcon!” Poe huffed out, panting as he rushed to her side. BB-8 was bleating in distress.

“The colony,” Rey’s eyes frantically dashed over the houses. An alarm siren was blaring, and lights were being snuffed out in preparation for in the incoming raid. “They’ll murder everyone here to get to us!”

“I know!” Poe’s voice was practically a scream, and it came close to frightening Rey. But this was a situation worthy of bellows and he had a grandfather here to consider. One who, presumably, was back at home crying and alone having just sent what was practically his own son out the door to an unknown fate.

With more control, Poe continued. “So, we need to make a big show of blowing this scene. Draw ‘em away.”

Rey shook her head incredulously, “On foot? We’ll never make it.”

Parking the Falcon, hidden amongst the lush foliage, with Chewbacca on guard a decent walking distance away had seemed like fantastic strategy in the light of day when the enemy was distant. Now, it felt like they had cheerfully signed their own death warrant.

Poe scoffed, back to looking almost playful again. “Of course not!” he eyed the red speeder, “I was thinking we liberate this fine piece of machinery for the good of the Resistance. Don’t think I didn’t notice you admiring it on the way in.”

Rey nodded sharply and set about removing the restraining bolt from its undercarriage. Time in the Resistance meant that Rey did now have a greater appreciation for the concept of personal property, not to mention the general concept of propriety. But desperate times called for desperate measures. If the owner of this lovely vehicle had an issue with their theft in service of sparing the lives of the colonists here, they could send a bill for damages to Princess Leia Organa for all Rey cared.

As she worked, she could hear Poe softly cooing over the landspeeder’s “unbelievably cool” design. It was enough to make her roll her eyes.

Boys and their toys indeed.

Once she’d gotten the doors open, a quick push and lift with the Force sent BB-8 bouncing into the back seat. She hoisted herself up into a standing position through use of her torso and leg muscles alone; Jedi training continued to yield unexpected, but useful, results. She made for the driver’s seat only for Poe to reach out a hand without touching her and pout.

“Oh, I wanted to…”

Rey shot him a look cold enough to freeze Jakku’s sun. The man wisely cut himself off with pursed lips. Though he did make a dramatic show of sliding over the hood of the vehicle as he maneuvered to the passenger-side door.

The internal restraining bolt was easily pried off, again, with a brief extension of the Force. Rey hovered it at eye level and crushed it like a used beverage can for good measure before casting it out into the dirt. That wasn’t entirely necessary, but she was running high on stress right now. The Force had ways of expressing her emotions, whether by fully conscious choice or not.

She revved the engine to life with as much cacophony as possible. A few rodents that had been milling near the machine squealed in panic and scattered in multiple directions. Headlights came alive to render them the brightest, loudest thing in the area before Rey slammed on the pedal to speed them away. They left a rolling dust cloud in their wake as the low flying vehicle tore through the main road of the settlement and out into the field lands bordered by jungle.

Rey looked up through the windshield. The sky was both blackened and shining bright with First Order drop ships that were rapidly descending towards the ground. She accelerated down a dirt road, hoping to make progress vaguely in the Falcon’s direction, without completely revealing its location. BB-8 bounced behind them, gripping on to the seat with his cables. Poe was intermittently looking up and out at their pursuers, and back at his droid companion. The speeder moved at a blinding clip and they were well clear of the colony within mere minutes. That was enough to bring a tiny fluttering of relief, but not enough to halt the rolling concern as the ships around her began to make motions to unload their presumed cargo of storm troopers.

Rey set her teeth and swung the vehicle in a wide arc that sent Poe and BB-8 flat against the walls from the inertia. She sped them off onto another, thinner patch of road; barely a road at all. The sky above them went dark as they were enveloped into the thick forest. Leaves and branches from the encroaching wilderness pelted the speeder as they barreled through.

“Hey!” A strong, yet smooth voice clipped suddenly out of the landspeeder’s dash. Its lights flashed briefly and turned from stock, factory white to a warm red.

Before Rey had a chance to react, the world tilted; and she found herself expelled from the vehicle and rolling to the ground alongside Poe and his droid.

They had come out of the jungle onto a small plateau of stones intermingled with coiled tree roots bursting and twining throughout the rocks. Rey barely had time to assess the area, scrambling as she was to avoid injury from the roughness of their fall. The speeder had opened its own doors somehow and gotten itself up on a seventy-degree angle to violently toss its riders out. Still on its side, it cruised around in front of the trio before falling back down to a proper resting position with a slight bounce and a squeak of the chassis settling.

_TSCHE-CHU-CHU-CHU-TSCHE_

The landspeeder split apart with such intensity, Rey thought for a moment this was the work of a non-combustible explosive. But it soon became apparent that this was something this vehicle, or whatever it was, was innately meant to do. The hood came apart in two even pieces as long legs and arms folded out. Complex metal pieces glided together like the synchronized performance of a thousand methodically trained dancers. Within seconds, the figure of a massive mechanical man, more elegant than any droid, towered over them in the place of the speeder.

He was all glossy red and shiny chrome. The hood of his speeder mode formed a round, wrapping chest area, not unlike a fur stole, above his tapered waist. Strong, shiny arms were detailed by the crimson plating of his vehicle mode, like armor. He had a pointed, gleaming white face topped with a red metal helmet featuring a pointed fringe that swept back. Circular red pupils looked down at them from dark eyes in annoyance.

“I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard; I am _not_ a ride share!” he punctuated this statement by pointing accusatorily down with a sharp, silver finger.

He seemed to wait a few moments for a response. When Rey and Poe only panted and gaped from the rocks, he rolled his bright eyes theatrically and folded back into the landspeeder shape again as easily as turning around.

 _"What-ever!”_ he called, dragging out the second half of the word hotly. His headlights lit up and dimmed as he spoke. He revved his engines and sped away into the night….

…Only to come hurtling back within microseconds. He was pursued at a distance by an onslaught of storm troopers bearing industrial grade lights that cut through the darkness of the jungle. Others carried machetes and repeating blasters.

“Scrap!” roared the transforming vehicle, speeding around the prone forms of Rey, Poe, and BB-8. He seemed intent to make a retreat the way the group had come. Only to again be confronted by an oncoming army of white-clad soldiers.

Trees were coming down around them as troopers sliced through the brush and vines to their position. The stones shook beneath Rey’s palms like the moon was quaking itself apart. The red speeder roared around them on the plateau like a panicked orbak. Poe grabbed at BB-8 and pulled him close as a father would their child to prevent him from getting trampled in passing by the mad, red, thing. It veered about at several more angles, looking for a possible escape route; only to come to the same conclusion Rey already had.

There was no running.

They were surrounded and the First Order was closing in.

The speeder finally stopped its thrashing and pulled in behind them. It hovered in idle and let its engine purr.

“So, I’m… _really_ not supposed to show myself off too much...” It whined, sounding both haughty, demanding, and anxious all at the same time. “So, if you skin-jobs have any ideas, my audio receptors are open.”

Rey was on her feet, blaster at the ready, long before Poe had scrambled up. Though to be fair, he had been momentarily delayed by the need to right BB-8’s head; it having been knocked ajar from their fall. The shock of seeing a talking, walking, giant metal person that could apparently turn back and forth into a personal vehicle still rattled within her; but they had priorities to consider. Poe took his position at her back, gun drawn as well. Their heads turning quickly around as they surveyed the oncoming wave of enemies from, literally, all around them.

“This is… not great, yea?” Poe hissed, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Stow that kind of talk.” Rey replied tersely, clicking her weapon’s safety off. Privately though, she was absolutely in agreement. They were vastly outnumbered and comically outgunned. Their only real hope at this point was for Chewie to show up with the Falcon, or for them to somehow break a hole big enough in the oncoming assault to retreat through.

“Rey, I’m counting at least thirty coming up on my twelve.” Poe had pulled a second weapon. One in each hand now pointed out at their impossible odds.

BB-8 was blaring beeps in a panic and rolled frantically between Rey and Poe’s legs. The rumble of trooper feet was louder now, drowning out nearly everything. White helmets were coming up in waves. She could hear their radio chatter. There were sickening cracks and the rush of objects falling through leaves as the advancing army fell more trees.

Poe’s voice was barely suppressing his panic, “Rey?”

The landspeeder revved its engine in frustration.

“Anytime now!”

“Rey!”

The demands were unnecessary and unappreciated. Rey was _trying_ to focus, to simplify the situation; narrow it down until there was just her and the Force. And then there would be no need even to consider her own form as she would be one with the Force as the Force was one with her. But this Jedi technique illuded her in the chaos of the scene. There was just so much _noise_.

The Force itself was loud. Screaming with the sounds of the dying plants and animals around her; cut and crushed under booted feet. Roars from ships in the sky. The nonstop braying of the storm troopers, all frightened children in tin cans with guns too big for them to hold. Just sent out to perform this task and then be shut away again in their dark ships and dark lives.

Poe was yelling. BB-8 was yelling. The inexplicable red landspeeder was yelling.

Rey couldn’t concentrate. Her mind felt like it was both melting and exploding outwards all at once. It was too much. Everything that weighed on her was crashing upon her conscious headspace like toxic waves. Plans that went awry despite all their best efforts. Vehicles that forced her out. The pressure to be the hero the Resistance needed.

Leia’s expectations. The hole where her son should be.

Finn and Rose sneaking kisses when they thought Rey couldn’t see.

Poe’s forced friendliness. Memories of Luke.

A child that never stopped crying in the night.  
  
Men that called her nothing, and then offered her everything.

Pulling her in one moment and then pushing her away the next.

Couldn’t everything just slow down for even one, blasted second?

  
Couldn’t everyone just decide in they wanted her in their lives or not?

  
Couldn’t everyone just…

_  
Leave._

_  
Her._

_  
Alone?_

  
The Force burned in her arms and scorched out of her skin like a wildfire. Its strength came flowing out, unbidden and raging in its ferocity. The trooper were upon them. But all it took was a single thought for them to go hurtling back.

_Go away._

Rows upon rows of white, shining bodies rose into the air and were propelled back with horrific speed. The stone beneath Rey’s feet depressed into a crater with the intense pressure of her power. Up above them, the drop ships seized and sparked, before they too came crashing down in smoldering wrecks. Small pebbles flowed up before careening outwards. Roots were broken free from the rocky ground and twisted upward like snakes before burning up from the raw energy radiating from her body. The forest trees were blown back, creaking and groaning, from the epicenter of the blast. Massive leaves and branches thrashed through the jungle like birds. Another horrible quake of noise as the everything together now came crashing down to earth.

Finally, all was still.

Rey came back to herself a few moments later, or maybe it was hours. She couldn’t tell. It was still dark, still night. Her mind was drained, her skull buzzed, and her body ached. But they were alive.

Poe was at her side. Nursing a large bruise on one of his impressive arms, though whether it was from their initial tumble out of a moving vehicle or from her Force explosion, she couldn’t say. He had a hand on her shoulder, had he been speaking to her? She couldn't say for certain; her ears felt stuffed and muffled. Poe's eyebrows were drawn together, and he worried a chapped lower lip.

BB-8 was happily in one piece, warbling back and forth on his round little body and looking up at her.

Smoking wrecks dotted the dark greenery around them from where the drop ships has come down. The trees were bent uniformly away from them. The landscape was thick with the pale, slumped bodies of storm troopers extending out and away from the cracked rock where Rey stood. Hundreds of them, all blown away in one moment. Scattered and still like children’s toys. She gripped at her armband. Never before had she done such a thing. This level of power…

Despite the piles of enemies strewn about, the night had regained its calm. Through the Force, Rey could sense faint life in these men. She hadn’t killed them, much to her relief.

The mechanical life form was back into its massive robot mode, crouched over a motionless storm trooper nearby. He was holding a long, metal staff with horn-like prongs on one end and was prodding at the body with the other; the way a child might poke a dead bird with a stick in morbid curiosity.

Before Rey could speak, the being with near obnoxious levels of shine whistled loudly and stood up. He had silver thighs and thicker calves comprised of red metal giving the appearance of boots ending in pointed chrome toes. He placed his hands over his lower back, striped with glowing powerlines, and seemed to stretch; almost casually. The staff folded in on itself like a pocketknife and was stowed away,

“Well… You got ‘em.” The giant turned to look down at them. His red eyes lacked the ire from before.

“Love to see someone who can provide a real _knock out_ when it’s needed.” His tone was conversational, almost… playful in a way. He stepped towards them. Poe flinched and raised a gun in his uninjured arm.

At the sight of a weapon, albeit one so small and clearly useless against his size, the red giant raised its silver hands in a pacifying gesture; but also looked bemused.

“See, that’s a little joke for you humans there. For lightening the mood. Because that’s my name. And we almost died.” He paused and looked to the side. He had large, dark eyebrows that we partially obscured by his red headpiece. From certain angles, they gave the appearance of heavy eye makeup.

“Well, _you_ _two_ would’ve died. I would have been slapped with another restraining bolt and probably left to rust again. Which basically _is_ my waking death.” He… _‘Knock Out?_ ’… shuddered. The red plating on his broad shoulders shook for a moment, but he recovered quickly with a shining, toothy grin and held his hands out, “So now you know two things about me. Look at us! Friends already.”

Rey moved to speak, but Poe cut in before she could.

“I’m sorry: can we get some who, what, and whys here please?” He hadn’t put his gun away, but was waving it as he spoke, giving the impression he was unlikely to fire anytime soon.

Huffing, Knock Out cocked a hip to one side and hung his head to the other. “Well, well… Look at Mr. Bossy Brass here.”

He paused a moment, seeming to wait for them to become intimidated, or to continue verbally sparring. When neither happened, he sighed and continued with a thespian-like edge.

“I am Knock Out. An Autobot, as you can no doubt tell from my _dazzling_ proud red colours and appealing, approachable vehicle mode.”

“Autobot...” Rey said softly, almost without meaning to. There was something familiar about that word.

“Yes, an Autobot!” Knock Out replied throwing his head back as he positively ejaculated with the pageantry his own introduction. “We are benevolent, sentient, self-configuring robotic lifeforms from the planet Cybertron. Upholding justice and freedom throughout the galaxy.”

Rey could practically feel herself blinking in unison with Poe. It was nice to be on the same wavelength, even if the wavelength was being overwhelmed by a massive, preening metal person.  
  
She whispered from the side of her mouth to Poe, "Have you ever seen anything like this?"  
  
His reply was instant, "If I'd have known there were guys like this around, you can bet I'd be making them my friends."

Knock Out continued, talking over their whispers undeterred. “I humbly serve as personal medic and loyal soldier to the one and only, Optimus Prime.” He looked down in a sidelong view to their blank faces. “That’s a very big deal, actually. Please clap.”

Rey didn’t move a muscle, but Poe did holster is blaster and gave a polite applause. Though it might have been the shock in action. She couldn’t say. BB-8 looked up at his owner and back to Knock Out, seeming indignant.

Rey took a few cautious steps towards the giant. Friendly seeming or not, he was massive in scale and had sharp looking fingers. “You’re… you’re a doctor?”

“Well…” Knock Out drawled, unclipping one of the small side mirrors from his vehicle mode that clung near his shoulders. “I suppose I’m more of an aesthetician these days.” He admired his smirking reflection in the mirror like he was using a compact.

In the momentary distraction, Poe tugged on the sleeve of Rey’s robe. It had become tattered and filthy in the chaos, but she didn’t particularly care about such things. Dameron leaned his head away and mouthed: _“We’ve got to go.”_

“Oh! Where are we going?” Knock Out had already clipped his mirror away and was smiling down at them expectantly. He had very even white teeth.

Poe froze awkwardly and winced. To the pair’s surprise, BB-8 rolled boldly forward and rattled off a loud speech in a clatter of beeps and boops. He puffed his round body outwards while looking up. Knock Out could’ve held the droid between two fingers like an all-day sour sucking candy.

“Resistance operatives?” his reply was cool and bemused, “My, you are a big deal, aren’t you?”

Looking more serious now, Knock Out continued. “If that’s the case, then won’t you hear my tale of woe? I’m lost! Separated from my beloved, beautiful, Prime. Stranded here on this far flung… organic planet.”

He wretched the word _organic_ out like it was the filthiest curse and pulled an expression of disgust.

“Those awful, _awful_ men… what did you call them? The First Order? They stuck me with restraining clamps when I was just minding my own business and laying low in vehicle mode back in that town.” He jabbed a clawed thumb over his round, red shoulder. “I’d have been left to rust if you hadn’t come along.”

“And then you tried to throw us out and drive away.” Poe replied flatly.

Knock Out scoffed and rolled his head around dramatically. “Well, excuse me! I didn’t know you were the good guys! I certainly didn’t know you had a literal superwoman with you who can blast away an army’s worth of biologicals without breaking a sweat.” He glanced down at Rey, gesturing with two open palms. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen a human do that before!”

“I’ve never seen her do that either.” Poe said in a low voice, his eyes were on Rey.

Knock Out bent down on one knee, grimacing at the cracked stone and burned vines littering the ground. It seemed unlikely he was upset at the destruction, rather, he simply didn’t like to touch dirt in any capacity. His sharp, handsome face leaned in towards Rey. She pulled back instinctively. It wasn’t an easy thing to have such massive bulk coming towards you.

“The way I see it, you’re my best chance at getting off this mudball safely and maybe even reuniting with Optimus.” He then looked over to Poe, waving a hand up and down over his own body, “And you! Didn’t you want this sexy red roadster in your life?”

Poe turned a bit pink as he stammered out a garbled response. “I- I didn’t know you were-…”

Knock Out merely chuckled in response before looking back to Rey.

“Don’t you want to aid a poor, helpless Autobot with nothing but a dream in his spark and pure, good intentions?”

Rey looked up into his pale face and red eyes. Knock Out’s tone was suave and beguiling, with just the hint of impatience festering underneath. But there was something else. Something Rey could feel from him. As she could, with some effort, feel the thoughts and emotions of all living things around her if she chose to extend herself. It was this ability that informed her of Poe’s strained feelings towards her intermingled with his hope that she would lead them to victory as a Jedi. It told her of Finn’s love for Rose and Rose’s love of Finn. It told her many beautiful things, and many horrible things. But it presented honesty none the less. You cannot lie through the Force. And Knock Out, for all his boisterous bragging and glamour couldn’t obscure this fact from Rey.

He was afraid.

It shook in his round pupils and rattled his shiny frame. It echoed within his strange, complicated mechanical mind. It crawled and oozed within the living Force that eked and flowed between them, between Poe, between the plants and animals here, and into everything.

The fear of being alone. Of rotting away in an unknown place. Of dying slowly.

Of being abandoned.  
  
 _“Please… Don’t leave me here.”_

It took Rey a few moments to realize Knock Out had whispered this plea out loud, albeit very, very softly. Perhaps it had been an accident. His eyes were cast downward.

Rey didn’t see the need to draw things out.

“Alright.” she replied first quietly, to Knock Out and him alone. His face and eyes came up in a snap. For the shortest of moments, he looked unguarded and full of uncomplicated happiness. Though a smug expression was soon to follow. Rey didn’t mind.

She turned, addressing Poe and BB-8. “He’s coming with us.”

Poe made to protest, but it was Rey’s turn to cut him off.

“I… had a vision from the Force.” She said quickly, “It’s desperately important to my Jedi training that we take him back to base with us. Cannot be fought against. Tremendous sacrilege to do so.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded sagely hoping to close the discussion. If Poe wanted a Jedi warrior, she’d bloody well give him one.

“Glad to see someone understands my importance.” Knock Out was already standing again and bouncing on his heels with glee.

BB-8 rolled over to nudge apprehensively into Rey’s lower legs. She bent over to offer a pet on his smooth head. They looked up at their new, massive ally.

“S’alright.” She murmured. She then glanced over to Poe.

He was looking a little worse for wear in the dim night of the jungle. A far cry from the bright, talkative man who had strode through his childhood home not a few hours before. Rey felt a complex curl of emotions. For all Poe did, and for all the distance between them, she was fighting for him too. And he had nearly lost it all tonight.

She smiled at him. You didn’t always have to love somehow to desire their safety and happiness.

“Back to the Falcon?”

Poe sighed and nodded. He looked exhausted, but he smiled back.

“Why walk when you can drive?” Knock Out’s voice was smooth as velvet as he easily folded back into his ostentatious vehicle mode. His headlights flashed as he pulled up before them and his doors swung open.

“But… do wipe your feet before you get in.”

***

Kylo Ren walked through the twisted irontrees of Corvax Fen on Mustafar and he walked alone.

The atmosphere of the volcanic world hung within an oppressive, muggy heat. The air was thick and hazy from the noxious marshlands. Despite the relatively long distance from an open lava flow, there was a persistent smell of brimstone in the air. Ash floated serenely through the air, the only gentle element of the landscape.

Behind him, dark shapes were scatted across the ground alongside burnt gashes sliced into the boggy soil and the stench of shouldering peat. The bodies of cultists who worshipped the legacy of his grandfather and tilled the harsh land. Cut down by Kylo’s lightsaber as they sought to bar his path. No match for him of course; but they died fighting and with dignity.

The cracks & fissures from his reforged mask gleamed crimson in the murky air. His crackling sabre, held up at eye level, enveloped the hood of his cowl in a persistent red glow. From his perspective, it cast the unyielding landscape in a hellish light; but that all seemed very aesthetically appropriate to the Supreme Leader of the First Order as he strode on through the lands Darth Vader had once called home.

Very recently, he had become aware of Rey’s presence. It had been brief and bitter, as nearly all of their interactions were since…

_No. He couldn’t think about that now._

Being near Rey even through a Force Bond, seeing her move even out of the corner of his eyes, hearing her breath, knowing she was close… and being unable to say anything was the greatest pain Kylo Ren presently endured in a lifetime of hardship & strife for the sake of cultivating his power.

Perhaps he could hold onto that idea. That this pain he felt in both her presence and in her absence was all in service of making him stronger. All the better to wield the wonders of the Dark Side. Maybe if he repeated that to himself long enough it would become true.

Either way, she had vanished in mere moments, as she often did. Kylo was privately glad of it. He didn’t need her to see his violence against the worshipers on this sulphur-soaked world. He didn’t need to see the strain and disgust in her face when she looked upon his new mask instead of into his eyes. He could imagine her despair with him all well enough, over and over in the back his mind, constantly.

All the time.

Always.

_Such a disappointment…_

In that moment, it was not Rey’s voice, but rather the sneering rasps of Snoke that haunted Kylo Ren.

The earth beneath his feet was becoming progressively soggier. His boots sunk into greater levels of water and slimy vegetation with each step. Kylo’s pace slowed as the muck suctioned against his footfalls, but he continued with determination.

There was no need to be haunted by Snoke. What haunted him were those broadcasts. Horrible calls to action blaring from deep space.

_“At last the work of generations is complete. The great error is corrected. The day of victory is at hand. The day of revenge. The day of the Sith.”_

“I am done with masters…” Kylo whispered to himself, grip tightening on the hilt of his blade. The beam roaring by his side like a beast, as it always did.

The thick of the forest broke open to a body of water. Calling it a lake felt almost too generous, considering its brackish water and the film of red algae floating on top. It was surrounded by irontrees and large, dark stones that stretched skywards. The lone remnants of Darth Vader’s fallen castle.

The air was still.

A glopping bubble came up from the centre of the lake, disturbing the crimson microbes, and sending tiny waves out to shore at Kylo’s feet. This was followed by a surge as a creature emerged from the watery depths. A massive pale… thing resembling a human infant with its eyes screwed shut as though in a deep sleep. The white skin of its bald head, the only part of its body currently visible, shone from the oily liquid. Clinging to the giant’s cranium was a second monstrosity; a massive red spider-like creature with bulbous eyes set wide on its own flat face. It had several long legs reaching down to grip and hold in bondage the head of its host. Or perhaps its… slave?

Through the Force, Kylo could sense pain and despair from the slumbering titan; locked together though their life signatures were. Was this a parasitic relationship, or a symbiotic one? That he could not determine, and though the study of ancient beings in Sith history did fascinate him; he unfortunately didn’t have time for this right now.

When did he ever have time?

The spider began to speak, it had a creaking screech of a voice. The infant rested, unmoving, with its nose just below the water’s surface.

“I am the Eye of Webbish Bog. The Sith oracle. I bid you welcome to this most historic and sacred landmark.”

A long leg detached from its sticking place on the pale forehead and swept over the desolate landscape of fog, swamp, and broken ruins of a castle stronghold long shattered.

Kylo Ren stared back, his glowing mask impassive and expressionless. Lightsaber at the ready.

The oracle cocked its awful head, waiting for an appropriate response. When Kylo didn’t oblige, it sighed and whirled a thin foot about as though already bored.

“And you have come here seeking information a being only such as I can provide, yes? Or…” massive eyes narrowed, and it leaned forward, rounded body lifting from its perch.“… Have you come to be proven wrong?”

Kylo raised his crackling weapon, his modulated voice crunching out from the mask.

“I’m not here to play games.”

“And yet you behave so childishly.” The spider emitted an eerie squeal that rippled the water with its pitch. “You search madly for answers in the arid lands of your grandfather’s house, all while denying what you already know, growing always in your heart. Running towards the truth and yet falling ever backwards.”

The Force began to hum with Kylo’s rage.

Smirking with sharp, yellow teeth, the spider continued. Its tone was simpering.

“Though, I suppose this should come as no surprise. You, who so _fear_ dying; terrified of being murdered for what you are… Because the people you love repeatedly try to kill you. Is it not reasonable you continue to flee?”

Flashes came through Kylo’s mind, unwanted and uncalled for. His uncle’s face, bright from his weapon and eyes wide with fear. Han Solo, all cast in red, reaching out to him from a sea of darkness. His mother…

With a gnash of his teeth, Kylo Ren banished those thoughts away.

The giant’s head shifted.

“But… you cannot run from this…” the spider turned upwards to the ashy skies. “The dead speak!”

“The past shall yet consume the future. Everything that has transpired from your birth to your being here was surely within his grand design! I hear his calls from beyond the stars. The voice of my master, the one true-”

Kylo hadn’t realized he’d been walking forward until he felt the horrible water sloshing around his knees. He sliced his cross guard across the surface, sending up a boiling hiss of steam.

“Enough! Speak plainly.” He pointed the blade of his weapon up at the creature, “I will tolerate no encroachment upon the First Order, _my empire_! Whoever this pretender is… sending rallying cries from nowhere… they will meet a short, sharp end.” He slashed the air to illustrate his point.

The oracle slowly eased back from its mad ramblings and laughed. “What information can I possibly impart to someone who won’t listen? You fear death and that is why you cannot overcome it! _Unlike him_.” More gruesome, squealing laughter. “And for yet further irony, your heart is entrapped by perhaps the one being alive now that could easily end your life. You’re utterly besot by the whispers of the last Jed-”

The guttural squeals of the creature were interrupted by a whirling ball of light that cut through the fog of the marshlands.

Glimpsing it briefly as it flew by, Kylo almost incorrectly identified it as a crystal butterfly. A rare & pleasant memory from his childhood. But no, it was moving far too fast and without visible wings. If anything, it more resembled some sort of lightning bug. A round, illuminated sphere, glowing bright and blue; casting reflections against the ripples of the water. It danced and flew in a circle around the clearing, swirling the mist into gentle patterns like frosting on a dessert.

At this invader, the oracle screamed and flailed two spindly arms in the light’s direction.

“Argg! That _thing_. That horrible spark. It’s been flying around and soiling this land for days!”

It wailed as the spark flew closer to the monster’s face before zipping away. The air became rank with the scent of singed flesh and the oracle roared. A sickening black blister marred its already ugly face.

The ball of light had burned him.

The oracle seethed, clutching frantically at his injury with a long, twitching limb. “Captured it! Grab it!”

Kylo had not waited to be commanded, already extending a gloved hand out towards the whirling sphere and exerting the Force over it. For such a small object, it had a surprising amount of strength, resisting him and attempting to fly on through the fog. At this, Kylo switched off and stowed away his saber to make better use of both hands. Pulses of light beat out as the spark fought, but it was swiftly drawn in. Kylo was able to suspend the ball at chest level. His hooded mask was lit up with a wash of gentle blue as he looked down at it.

Up close, he could perceive that it was indeed some sort of compressed energy made physical. It grew and shrank in his hold. Its power thrummed though the Force and vibrated even past the material of his gloves into his fingertips. A soft sound, not unlike the lonely calls of Purrgils echoing eternally though space, hummed from it.

Kylo Ren brought the orb closer to his covered face. He could hear something else from it. A voice, strong and gentle, but very quiet, as though whispering from under water. It was nothing he could clearly decipher. He regarded this strange, powerful thing that had been flying through the swamps on Mustafar.

It was… warm.

“Kill it! Extinguish it! Snuff it out!” the oracle continued to screech frantically, skittering back and forth across that massive, pale skull. “Do this for me and I’ll tell you everything, _anything_ , you want to know!”

Kylo Ren looked down at the pulsating spark and whispered very softly, almost to himself, “No…”

The Sith oracle did not cease in its demanding wails. Kylo’s head snapped up to face the monster, red glowing from his mask yet again. He looked pointedly at the gruesome scorch marks splattered over its face.

“No.” Kylo repeated, firmer this time. An order. A declaration.

“This thing can hurt you. It burns you. It’s stronger than you.”

He held the spark outward slightly and watched the oracle flinch away. Its glistening, bulbous eyes betrayed intense anger and fear.

Kylo drew the shining ball back with a soft, dark chuckle, “Why should I trust the council of someone so weak and wretched?”

The oracle sputtered in rage as Kylo Ren continued, “It seems I did come here to be proven wrong. I thought I had need of you, but that is not the case.”

His hooded head cast downward at the glow and he nodded. “I only need this.”

Kylo turned swiftly, his cape snapping behind him, weighed down with water and muck though it was. Already anticipating what would happen next, he shifted the spark to one hand in preparation.

The Eye of Webbish Bog, a craven monster that called itself an oracle, screamed a piercing shriek that echoed through the misty woods. Kylo could sense its movement easily. It threw itself, hissing & spitting, off the giant’s head. Teeth barred and legs out; trained on the Supreme Leader’s broad back.

With a crackling roar, Kylo ignited his saber and spun with fantastic speed. A flash of fiery red exploded over the wetlands, followed by a spray of dark blood. The oracle went down. Split fatally across its neck and torso; dead before the toxic corpse hit the mud. Long legs splayed out at odd angles and moved no more.

From back in the lake, the pale child’s face contorted as though waking and it opened large, blue eyes just a fraction. Its mind was clear for the first time in centuries. Perhaps Kylo Ren had provided its liberation, or perhaps he had simply killed it too. Either way, it sunk into the swamp with a bubbling rush of water as it scuttled itself to the depths.

Focusing hard to contain the jumping orb with one hand, Kylo again withdrew his weapon to properly look upon the spark. It was pulsing faster now, likely due to the excitement of Kylo’s recent violence, but it soon quieted. It stopped trying to fight his hold and floated pleasantly a few inches above the black leather of Kylo’s gloves, creating a pool of blue light.

The masked face tilted right and left as Kylo examined his new boon. This acquisition was a surprise. He had come here for information and found nothing he didn’t already know. But he’d grabbed hold of something worthy of great fascination. Perhaps this could be a new power source. Perhaps it contained secrets capable of toppling even the most powerful of Sith. Perhaps it was ultimately nothing more than a glittery distraction but…

The spark rolled gently in his hovering grip and offered an extra bright shine of light.

Kylo Ren had the distinct impression he was being addressed directly. But despite great effort, he could not connect with the sphere in any meaningful way through the Force. He drew it closer anyways. It was more than a ball of energy, clearly. Further study of this entity would be required. Private study: he couldn’t trust the scientists of the First Order with this, nor his generals or chancellors.

Certainly not.

This was project suitable only for himself. Just him. He had found this thing after all; it was only correct that he take full stewardship of its analysis and care.

Blue light continued to shine. The swamps of Mustafar were quiet.

“I’ve got you...” Kylo said softly under his mask to the gently glowing spark.

And then, because such childish affirmation did not seem appropriate for the Supreme Leader of the First Order, he pulled his shoulders back and spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

“You’re mine now.”

***

In the far reaches of the Outer Rim, deep within the dark, yawning abyss, a red VTOL jet cruised through the sea of stars. Sleek in design, she bore wind turbines on both her wings that were, of course, useless in the vacuum of space. Luckily, Cybertronian evolution had compensation measures in place and alternative means of propulsion kept the Autobot warrior moving at a steady speed.

Her internal dash lit up in a series of flashes, a faint light in the darkness. She had finally picked up on the soft life signal of her quarry. Her direction shifted towards this new destination, the beeping inside her growing stronger as she closed the distance.

Windblade, chosen emissary of Primus, slowed, and shifted into robot mode. Her lithe but strong body of red & black metal continued to float on, carried by inertia. Her wings were held high over her shoulders. She cast her pale face around, trying to get a visual, her golden headpiece reflecting the ancient light of distant stars. Had she been in a calmer state of mind, she might have meditated on the quiet beauty of her surroundings and peacefulness of not hunting or being hunted by Decepticons. As a holy warrior of their planet since millennia ago, and a provisional Cybertronian council member as of very recently, she rarely had such moments of isolated tranquility.

But Windblade was not in mental space for such thoughts. She was focused on finding one thing and one this only now. Her red eyes narrowed, drawing in the ornate markings of her face around them, as she scanned the blackness. The shrill beep of her proximity scanner echoed inside her head.

Finally, she made contact. A dark shape only a few feet away; hidden briefly behind some drifting space rock; but now exposed.

The massive form of Optimus Prime.

He was floating prone on his back. The body of a giant man comprised of red, blue, and gleaming silver. Long legs embellished with truck tires spinning very slowly, but continuously with no friction or resistance to halt them. Strong arms and large hands hovered at his side. It almost appeared as though he was sleeping, buoyed in a bed of starlight.

Windblade approached her fallen king, the last of the Primes. All sensors indicated he was deep in stasis, but part of her hoped his legendary resilience might allow him a moment of consciousness. Even a brief word from him would be enough to get her through this most bizarre mission; lost in a galaxy she didn’t understand with no sign of familiar life, enemy or otherwise. 

As she floated closer, her hopes dashed. Optimus was alive, as the lack of gunmetal grey on his body indicated, but he was nowhere near being online. There was more damage to him than she’d initially anticipated. One of the horns from his earpieces had been snapped off in the violence of the Space Bridge accident. Scratches and deep dents were crunched into his arms and legs. His eyes were closed, mouthguard drawn up. His often-warm face seemed cold and brutal in this comatose state.

She came before his chest area, Optimus’ massive body dwarfing her own small frame made only marginally larger thanks to her wings. The window components that made up his chest were pulled aside awkwardly and laced with cracks. Bits of shimmering glass floated around the area like frightening diamonds. At the sight of this most important area being mangled, Windblade quickly moved to investigate… and then gasped in horror at what she saw.

Or rather, didn’t see.

“No!” she cried in despair.

Beneath her slim fingers was the exposed Spark Chamber of Optimus Prime. And it was empty.

The soul of a Cybertronian, the source of their very being. And Optimus’… no, Optimus himself… was missing. The Autobot Matrix of Leadership, the great golden artifact, lay cold and useless in his chest. Functional, but without a Spark to power it.

  
It was a primally sickening sight to witness an empty Spark Chamber. The display churned Windblade’s circuits with an intense nausea. It was wrong. It meant vulnerability and grave danger. And she had allowed Optimus, her Prime, to befall such a fate.

In a panic, Windblade threw her head around, looking desperately for the telltale blue glow, but there was nothing. Anxious breath wheezed from her red lips. Only the lingering detail that he yet still functioned, thus meaning his spark still lived, kept her from spiralling into utterly hopelessness. She kicked her scanners to their most powerful setting, nearly knocking herself out cold with the subsequent drain of internal power. But there was still nothing.

She screamed out to no one, and one no responded.

The spark of Optimus Prime was gone.


	3. Distress Call

Chancellor Hux strode through the Steadfast's corridors with long, confident steps. The rhythmic _clump_ of his boots against the pristine, dark floor produced an orderly, drumming beat for him to follow; perfectly befitting one of his status. He wasn’t traveling anywhere particularly at this exact time, but he felt it was important for morale that the crew see him often and in a state of movement, so as to communicate how immense and time consuming his responsibilities were. Surely everyone on the vessel already understood and respected how indispensable Armitage Hux was to the functioning of the First Order, but rigorous reinforcement was always beneficial. 

Speaking of repetitive behaviour, their _illustrious_ Supreme Leader had once again elected to depart on a personal mission several days ago. He’d left no coordinates of his destination, nor taken any support team; utterly neglecting his responsibilities, not to mention military protocol, and ignoring the threat of the Rebellion. All to chase after ghost stories or even the slightest rumour of that scrap of a murderous scavenger calling herself a Jedi. It was just fortunate for Kylo Ren that Hux remained dutifully behind to thanklessly keep things under control.

He continued along, a BB-9E unit quickly scooting itself to the side of the hall to clear the way. Ensigns and other lower operatives saluted as Hux past.

 _As well they should._ He mused to himself.

Trailing behind Hux, with quick but far less ordered steps, was Ulchtar Silver. A thin man identified by, fittingly enough, silver hair slicked back to appropriate First Order grooming standards and an evenly clipped goatee to match on a long, gaunt face. Slight of frame though he was, Ulchtar stood about half a head taller than Hux, due to very non-regulation heels that shored up the glossy, grey boots he insisted on wearing. The man was already pushing it with his decidedly _unique_ suit and coat uniform of red, chrome, and black as opposed to the proper, solid colors that he’d initially been provided with. Still, Hux had learned very quickly into their working relationship that it was often best to acquiesce to Silver’s demands, lest he get an earful of shrill caterwauling for literally hours, or simple threats of bodily violence from sharp claws. Neither was something Hux had time for right now, what with his work being so demanding and his presence here so valuable.

Perhaps it was appropriate for the Chancellor of the First Order to have a Second in Command garbed in unique regalia anyways? Yes, upon reflection, that was perfectly reasonable.

Hux slowed marginally to cast his gaze at his reflection in a sparkling clean window that opened into star dotted space along the hall. He cared little for the view, but took an appropriate level of pride in his immaculate appearance and the way his coat billowed out just slightly as he walked, showcasing the striking blood-red lining. The aesthetic was spoilt a bit as the incessant _clicks_ from Ulchtar Silver’s heels drew closer.

“…And I’ll be needing your signature on these last few invoices. With the fishing guild of Arkanis now under our control, all our outstanding debts have, of course, been forgiven. Furthermore, with the incoming taxation, we’ll be more than capable of funding the-”

As usual, Silver was talking, loudly and without pause. Several datapads were grasped in the man’s thin hands, clacking as he shuffled through them while he prattled on about fuel logs, troop movement, and finances. All very tedious information that honestly should be beyond a chancellor’s station by now, but since Kylo Ren clearly couldn’t be bothered to delegate this type of operational discourse, or demonstrate any type of general management for that matter, Hux supposed the task fell to him and him alone. How very lucky for the First Order that Hux had conscripted a personal _attaché_ with a nigh infinite capacity for memory retention and several millennia worth of experience in galactic armada resource management. 

“Ah!” A sudden, louder rasping croak from Silver rudely interrupted Hux’s musings. A message notification light flashed on one of the datapads. “It would appear the Supreme Leader has returned.”

Hux immediately halted, his boots squeaking on the flooring in a highly undignified manner, much to his displeasure. He took a brief minute to school his face and internally berated his stomach and other gastric organs for dropping so abruptly. Hux turned slowly, waiting, and ready for Silver to collide with him, assuming the man hadn’t bothered to look up from his busy work. An explosion of justified anger against his subordinate was sure to set Hux’s constitution to rights.

This was not to be, however. Ulchtar Silver had stopped several paces behind Hux already and was standing with infuriating simplicity. A slight, utterly frustrating grin upon his too-thin mouth. Silver gently waved the offending datapad up at eye level, lightly fanning himself with it.

“Careful now, my dear Chancellor…” gleaming red eyes looked left and right at the workers, officers, and general bodies in the hall, some of whom had turned to observe the pair. The ever present panopticon of the First Order. “Do contain your delight.”

With decidedly less grace, Hux cast his head around and sent looks that were both burning hot and yet terribly cold to the wandering eyes of the crew. A silent, but firm command to _get back to work_. He ran a gently shaking hand through his even red hair and settled.

“Excellent. I imagine he’s called a meeting, then?”

Silver’s eyes were closed, and he leaned his head to the side. For all appearances, an utterly pleasant and demure secretary. “Indeed. In the High Command conference room.”

Hux sucked his tongue against the back of his teeth. He could feel his body vibrating unpleasantly, much as he willed it to stop. Silver’s eyes opened just a fraction, two ugly red lines of poisonous judgement; watching the squirm.

“Excellent,” Hux repeated like a simpleton, and immediately cursed himself for doing so. He turned, letting his coat sweep out, and made down another hall.

Over the march of his boots, Hux could just make out Silver’s bored sign and mutterings. _“Ugh, finally… some blasted excitement around here.”_

“What was that?” Hux asked sharply, and a little too loudly, over his shoulder.

“Oh nothing. Nothing at all.” Silver’s face snapped back to the perfect mask of politeness as he slid up to his commander’s side on thin legs. But Hux hadn’t missed the sound of fumbling data pads when he’d barked just now.

_The two-faced coward can’t handle being yelled at either…_

The pair began to walk, side by side this time. Armitage Hux’s voice was low and hissing as he spoke, “Well, I’m terribly sorry that this position affords you so little entertainment! But that’s not really what we’re here for.”

Ulchtar Silver, although that really wasn’t his name at all, wheezed a thin laugh. “Oh no, Chancellor…”

He looked directly into Hux’s eyes, and for the briefest moment, Hux was reminded of the distance between their species, flawless though this hard-light avatar of human likeness was.

“You do provide a constant stream of amusement.”

***

The other high officers were already long seated by the time Kylo Ren arrived. That garish, ugly mask loomed over the room, slowly observing his seated generals in a predatory fashion before Kylo ultimately turned his back to them and stalked towards a viewport, blocking out the starlight.

Ulchtar Silver hung respectfully back against the wall alongside several other personal assistants, many of whom fidgeted and fussed at their uniforms due to the prolonged waiting period. If Hux had a higher opinion of their leader, he might have assumed this was a deliberate tactic worthy of praise; making your highest personnel delay in their important tasks to sit idle in a meeting chamber. Desperately hanging on your arrival. Demonstrating clearly to whom they belonged and who dictated their schedule. But, frankly, Hux doubted Kylo could even read a clock properly.

Yet a few more seconds ticked by before General Quinn cleared his throat. “Shall we… report, sir?”

Without moving, Kylo Ren’s guttural voice ground out a response, sounding bored and distracted. “Of course, what are you delaying for?”

General Parnadee and Engell shared a look of contempt from across the table. Engell, the older and bolder of the two, didn’t even conceal her frustrated eyeroll. Hux clenched a fist together so hard he heard the leather of his gloves creak.

_The utter disrespect!_

The briefing proceeded much as the dozens that had come before under Ren’s stewardship of the First Order. The Supreme Leader saying little and expressing even less interest, unless there was information to be had about the scavenger. Even Rebellion activity inspired minimal responses. Orders and approvals were clipped, if he had anything to contribute at all. Hux could feel himself growing hotter and seething as Kylo Ren’s continued detached apathy weighed down the proceedings.

There was one detail that caught the impossible man’s interest though: the theft of the recruitment transport ship, AX-00487.

“From what we can gather from survivors…” Parnadee was speaking, noting Kylo’s attention with cautious optimism, “A protocol droid either malfunctioned or was deliberately tampered with. It freed enough of the cap-” she paused and amended her report. “…Enough of the conscripts to stage a coup. We’ve been unable to track the vessel, or its contents, since.”

Kylo turned to face his generals. “An unacceptable loss.”

Parnadee nodded sharply. “I agree, my lord. That is why I propose we dispatch-”

Kylo cut her off. “There will be no recovery.”

Parnadee had the good sense to swallow whatever she wanted to say next, but Hux was bolstered by absolute fury in her eyes.

Kylo Ren paced around the room, making his generals in their properly stiff-pressed uniforms turn and shift awkwardly in their seats to follow his movement.

“Our army, fed by the galaxy’s young, is a relic from the days of Snoke.” He left a pause that was uncomfortably long. The generals exchanged gazes. Were they supposed to offer a prayer of mourning?

Yet Kylo continued. “This is yet another example of their ineffectiveness and treachery. We already waste precious resources on pursuing deserters who follow the lead of FN-2187.”

At the mention of the Resistance hero, Kylo Ren’s voice became faster and hoarse with rage. The sleek meeting table and the objects on it began to vibrate with the that most putrid witchcraft, the Force. A glass of water clicked dangerous closed to the edge before Quinn grabbed it. Hux sneered; both at Ren’s freakish ability, and at such a disgusting showcase of unproductive emotion.

The madman finally calmed himself and the air stilled. “A clone army is obviously superior.” He waved a gloved hand vaguely back at the group. “Make the preparations, I will depart with my Knights to Kamino shortly to place an order.”

“B-but… But!” Engell sputtered in protest, appearing to realize that her position in recruitment had suddenly been liquidated. “The facilities on Kamino are abandoned! Those long-necked…” she was growing red in the face, “They don’t _do that_ anymore!”

 _“Am I not the Supreme Leader?”_ Kylo bellowed. He’d been moving to the exit the room and whirled sharply on them. “They’ll restart every piece of machinery on that planet _, if it is my will_.”

The room the was painfully quiet. Kylo Ren allowed the atmosphere to hang before turning again. “Dismissed.”

 _“That’s it?”_ Hux regretted the words the minute they’d hissed from his lips, but he’d reached a limit long before their leader’s arrival. This farce of a summit had only exacerbated that. “Our entire infrastructure. Our… our army pipeline, _upended on your whim?"_

Someone next to Hux whispered at him to restrain himself. It didn’t matter who. Far too late now.

“By what right do you-”

Kylo thrust an arm out. Hux’s head slammed painfully down into the brushed metal of the table. There was a screech of chairs against the floor as the generals startled away from this sudden violence. Kylo’s hand clenched slowly, fingers coming together. Hux gasped loudly for breath as his windpipe was compressed. His mouth gaped wide like a dying fish.

Ulchtar Silver stepped quickly forward, hands together and bent slightly at the waist. “What the chancellor _means_ to say, surely… Is that: isn’t this a task better delegated? Such troublesome minutia..." he gave a delicate flicker of his long fingers, "Are there not other, more prestigious calls upon the time of our great and noble leader?”

His tone was even, as though this was a minor disagreement in a perfectly average workplace environment, and not as though his direct superior was being strangled to death at his left.

Kylo kept his arm out, but slowly lifted his masked face up to regard Silver. The two hadn’t interacted much, which was precisely how Hux wanted to keep things. For Silver’s part, the thin man wore a polite smile. But his eyes darted back and forth between Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux, who was now turning a worrying shade of fuchsia.

“Your input is… noted.” Kylo finally replied; Hux was released at the last word. The ginger haired man coughed and hacked in sickening gulps as oxygen rush back into his throat and lungs.

“But hardly required.” Kylo was already out the doorway as he spoke.

Silver kept his eyes on the Supreme Leader’s retreating back until he was well clear of the room. He didn’t move until the rest of the generals had stood and departed either; still and nonplussed enough to be mistaken for a droid. Hux continued to wheeze and massaged the front of his neck. It was only when the pair was truly alone that Silver’s smiling face fell and twisted into an acidic grimace.

_“Required indeed!”_

Hux coughed and wiped a glob of spittle from his chin with the back of his fist. “I’ll thank you not to speak out of turn!”

“Oh, terribly sorry…” Silver replied in a low hiss. He bent down and gripped Hux’s shoulder, but not in comfort. His strength was inhumanly powerful, and it made bones and ligaments creak. “Next time, I’ll remember to stand idly by while our dear leader squeezes the life out of you.”

The statement was punctuated by an increase of pressure from Silver’s grip. Hux tried not to flinch; to preserve even a speck of dignity after the previous display. He could feel himself falling short on both fronts.

“But I fail to see the value in that.” Silver released Hux’s shoulder and, almost domestically, began to smooth the lapels of the chancellor’s coat. “You’re the one who’s always going on about patience. Do try and keep it together a little while longer.”

Still wheezing intermittently and rubbing at his shoulder now, Hux glared down at the table as he spoke. “Time will reward us yet. You saw the way the other generals responded to _his_ flagrant disregard for their positions.” He looked back over at Silver, “A few more instances like that and the First Order will abandon Kylo Ren, unnatural abilities or not, and seek out a leader who understands the true meaning of discipline.”

“Then, why not make a show of our good intentions?” Silver nodded his head to the scattered datapads strewn in front of Hux, disorganized from his earlier flailing. “We do have _that_ project nearly completed after all.”

Thin, red eyes bored into Hux, who milled over this information before whispering a reply. “Yes… that would be… acceptable.”

Hux stood, wincing at the pain in his body. He began to speak, but Silver was already walking towards the viewport where Kylo Ren had been standing moments prior. Boney hands folded behind his back.

With the meeting concluded, the lights in the room began to automatically dim, casting them in near darkness. The soft glimmer of stars were now the only source of illumination.

Hux drew alongside his SiC in front of the window. Silver's pale face was curled in delight, and a soft laugh began to drift from a narrow mouth.

“Look at them. Infinite worlds…”

Hux followed Silver’s gaze out into space. Indeed, so many planets, stars, and systems. All so terribly chaotic. Desperately needing the firm hand of the First Order; headed up by stalwart and dependable leader, of course, to steer them into the future.

“Untouched. Unspoiled by then hands of Meg-“ Silver cut himself off with a croak and shook his head rapidly, nearly birdlike, before continuing. “Just waiting for you. For us.” He turned to Hux, his expression gleeful, almost manic.

It was enough to make Hux stiffen and take half a step back. Wetting his lips, he attempted to reassert control. “Just remember who is assisting who, here. Ulchtar Silver was… and still IS nothing without my support, my contacts, and my knowledge of this institution. You _need_ me.”

If Silver was cowed by Hux’s rebuke, he didn’t show it. He merely chuckled.

“Yes, yes. You’re a very well connected man. A very powerful man. That’s why I sought you out.” He leaned into Hux’s face. “But not powerful enough. Not yet anyways.”

Hux willed himself to stay perfectly still. Beyond the horrid physical strength, there was little this hard-light avatar could do that a human man could not. Certainly he was nothing compared to the wretched sorcery of Kylo Ren's capabilities. The creature’s true, massive body was several dozen metres below, contained safely within a docking bay. Silver could not inflict serious damage upon Hux's person without completely exposing himself, and his secrets, at this point.

Silver continued, “But I find myself magnanimous in nature, and it seems only fitting I share my vast experience and capabilities to assist you in establishing your one true place in command of the First Order.”

At that, Hux did hiss in protest; he could only hope it didn't sound childish and fearful. These were words of treason, dangerous to be saying out loud on this ship, even to an empty room. He raised a pointed finger, only to have it painfully slapped aside.

Silver continued, eyes red and wide, shutting down Hux’s interruption. “And then, to extend your will throughout time and space as your eternal heir… Starscream, the Emperor of Destruction!”

Breathing heavily, Chancellor Hux’s second in command ambitious ramblings refused to cease. His hair gleamed frosty in the starlight. “Therefore, I advise you stay smart and continue to show proper appreciation for my time and expertise.”

Starscream spread his thin arms out high and clenched his fists. His dark shadow stretched eerie and bestial along the walls.

“For I promise you, Chancellor… You will find no other like me in all the galaxy.”

***

Aboard the Axalon’s command deck, Cogman was busily tapping his long, metal digits over several panels. He was embroiled with checking in on various portions of the ship, reviewing vast quantities of data, and sometimes just opening and closing doors remotely for fun. He hummed to himself off and on through his voice box. Nickel, ever the fussy one, couldn’t settle to one task and flitted between multiple terminals intended for several independent users. She was often muttering to herself about _‘the absolute state of this barge’_ in-between barrages of creative curses that didn't involve actual dirty words; she did think of the children, after all.

Servo was dashing about the bridge, having a grand game of pursing several squealing mouse droids about the space and barking loudly. Kel and Eila gleefully cheered him on, often needing to lift their legs to let the small droids swerve through. Cody observed from the sidelines, seeming content that his dog wasn’t showcasing any genuine hunting instinct.

A monitor before Cogman lit up along with an alert; a rounded, repeating _bong_. His fingers froze.

“Interesting…” he tilted his head upwards, but Cody was already looking over his shoulder. “Young master. A Decepticon distress signal has been detected.”

“You can pick those up? On this ship?”

“I’ve been modifying its capabilities for that very purpose,” Cogman replied, gesturing to the screens. A purple Decepticon shield blipped on and off on a black star grid.

Cody raised an eyebrow. “But Megatron doesn’t use Decepticon codes anymore. He’s on the Rescue Bots’ frequency, so he and the team can communicate.”

“More to the point,” Cogman continued, tapping at the monitor with a knuckle. “This is a very old type of identification. Haven’t seen the likes of it since the earlier days of the war…”

Nickel wheeled up behind them. “So, there’s another Decepticon noodling around in this galaxy? Probably had the same rotten luck we did.”

Cody crossed his arms over his chest. “If that’s the case… They might need our help too.”

“I think playing nice with a retired Megatron, and us, may have given you a charitable impression of ‘Cons,” Nickel replied flatly. “If this is a Decepticon soldier, we’d be better off to stay well back and let them…” She began to trail off and murmur uncomfortably as she met Cody's beseeching eyes, “…rust in peace.”

Cogman coughed, or at least, he imitated the sound of a spontaneous cough and caught his partner’s gaze. She sighed and threw her hands up. “But I suppose there’s no harm in looking.”

***

The signal led them to a dump.

Not a dump on a planet or moon, but rather a free-floating mass comprised entirely of garbage. Bits from thousands of ships blown apart in this galaxy’s conflicts, refuse from pleasure cruisers and spaceports, the wings & engines from crafts, the plating & limbs from droids great & small – all jumbled up, melted, and mashed together. Coalesced into a solid mass over centuries of gravity’s pull. 

“There’s a gas giant nearby that draws most things towards it: very, very slowly.” Cogman explained, pitching his voice low as he intoned the ‘slowly’. The body of junk was highlighted on an overhead monitor from various angles. “So, this mass formed from many small bits and bobs being pulled in, and now it continues to get bigger as its own center of gravity grows.”

Cody turned his head away from the screens to look out the ship’s main window at their fast-approaching destination.

“It’s kinda like The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” The boy declared brightly.

“Eh?”

“It’s this big pile of debris that’s all gummed together in one of Earth’s oceans. It was formed from human waste getting pulled together from the natural current of the water and stuff.” Cody mimed a ball forming with his hands. “It’s a big environmental concern. Really bad pollution. Boulder could tell you more about it; one of his major projects is to try and clean it up.”

Cody’s voice went a little thick, and his eyes misty at the mention of one of the Rescue Bots, so Cogman quickly shifted the topic to specific facts and figures about their destination. Kel relieved the tension handily by approaching, Eila in tow as she often was, with a junior sized pressure suit and oxygen mask and began helping Cody into it.

“First sign of trouble, you’re all back on board, yea?” Kel said sharply as Cody fiddled with the face piece.

“If I had my way, he wouldn’t be coming at all.” Nickel grumbled under her breath. It was rapidly becoming apparent to Cogman, that no matter how she insisted otherwise, Nickel could not refuse their young master’s earnest requests.

“I’ll be careful.” Cody insisted to both of them, sounding better now. “Kel… I guess you have the bridge?”

“I don’t want that kind of responsibility,” Kel replied with a good-natured laugh, and nodded to his sister. “Looking after Eila is enough.”

“Gotcha,” smiled Cody, “Then Eila has the bridge.”

***

The asteroid of junk was captivatingly beautiful in a bizarre way.

It was a sumptuous melding of colors from green, to red, to deep blue, and all manner of silvery white mingled in between. Mountains of piled bric-a-brac formed the landscape, leaving thin pathways of rusted metal between them. It had the effect of a pastoral, human village, with scenic hills dotted with domestic structures, but all comprised of glorious garbage. There wasn’t really an atmosphere, so everything was crystal clear, regardless of distance. Patches of light were cast from pieces of glass that had fused together into chaotic frescos, held up by whatever manner of support system they had naturally formed into. Spires of twisted, fragmented ships pierced the landscape like office buildings, skewed at impossible angles.

Cogman would be the first to admit he didn’t tend to perceive the world the way so-called average, reasonable, polite, or mentally stable Cybertronians did. He was aware that his internal judgements about beauty or aesthetics could be _off_ in some capacity. It was a troubling thing, to be persistently reminded that your ‘normal’ wasn’t the blunt reality of others. Like a buzzing doubt in your head that never left.

Still, just because it wasn’t normal or _done_ , didn’t mean it was heinous. It wasn’t ‘normal’ to have a Mini-Con be as willful and independent as his Nickel. Or for her to be perceived as unbearably, Spark-stoppingly attractive. Or for her to be wed in civil union at all, let alone to someone outside her class designation. But she was all those things, and she’d done all those things. With Cogman, no less. And it brought them happiness. So really, who was to say what’s normal?

And why shouldn’t he think this dump lovely?

Nickel was on edge, as usual. Her hands had sunk into her arms to allow twin rotating saw blades to pop out in their place. Built for surgery, but excellent at intimating and causing damage in a non-medical capacity. She was turning slowly around at her waist as she surveyed the landscape, eyes narrowed and optical scanners beeping quietly.

“If this place draws in garbage naturally, then the Decepticon signal we picked up might be just that…” she buzzed a saw-hand for emphasis. “A signal independent of any living being that got caught up with all this… recrement.”

“Certainly in the realm of the possible, my love.” Cogman noted. He had his hands full with two F-11D blaster rifles, muzzles pointed skyward, and his back was laden with ammunition. It was so nice to get out for a stroll once in while.

Cody carried no weapon save for a handheld proximity scanner and was enjoying the clumpy _thumps_ his gravity boots made on the surreal landscape. Servo’s paws, magnetized to provide a similar effect, happily trotting by the boy's side.

“This place is so neat!”

Cogman was privately gratified to hear Cody’s praise of the environment. Nickel, however, scoffed.

“It’s just _junk_.”

Cody didn’t seem to be listening as he continued, softer; “Aw man, Salvage would love all this…”

There was a rumble of movement nearby and the ground shook, snapping Cody out of his reverence. This was followed by an avalanche of sound as the delicate balance of whosits and whatsits comprising the asteroid shook and crashed into each other in upset. All with terrible sluggishness, of course, due to the minimal gravity.

Nickel gave a little snarl of rage and sliced violently at a steel beam that was slowly sliding down towards them a little too close for comfort. Cody was down in a protective crouch immediately, firmly covering the back of his neck with gloved hands.

A dark shape loomed up and out from between several leaning structures of rubble, sending a hailstorm of scorched metal and glass pinwheeling across the void in slow motion. A pair of giant, mismatched hands came crashing down on either side of them. A new, female cry violently rattled the waste yard.

They had found their Decepticon.

Cogman had his rifles on her immediately. Pitiful in size though they were compared to her girth, but he still knew all the best spots to bring a big bot down.

She was a massive, mess of a thing. At one time, she had clearly been built as a spry, warrior type, with a slim but strong purple frame. She still bore a matching helmeted head, and an armored chest piece. But, like the asteroid itself, she was also a strange collage of mismatched pieces. One red arm was far too large and bulky for the rest of her: hanging awkwardly on a straining, sparking shoulder. Her legs, bent at the knees as she bore down on them, were a similar state of odd colours and uncomfortable looking patchwork. Her face held the shape of a permanent frown and she sported a cruel looking monocle in place of one of her eyes.

Clearly, she’d been harvesting this magnificent dump for parts and welding them, badly, into place over time.

Her voice box was in perfect working order though, and she demonstrated by screaming a raspy demand down at them from her grim, fanged face.

“Who are you? Who sent you?”

Before they could reply, her bad shoulder lit up in a small explosion; possibly protesting her sudden movement. She grunted, momentarily distracted, and moved to grab at it with her free hand, necessitating her to lean back on her legs. Her joints groaned unnaturally as she shifted positions and her face contorted before shooting a venomous glare down at the group.

“Get away from me!”

Cody, nonplussed by the shouting, was already approaching her, flat hands up and pointed in her direction. Fearless, or perhaps foolish as ever. Servo was at his side, ears back and teeth bared, but not yet worked up to the full growls he was capable of. Cody halted immediately upon her request. Nickel was already moving to intercept by the time Cody started speaking.

“No one sent us. We… we came looking for you!”

“What?” the Decepticon warrior hissed and her good eye went wide. A red pool of violence. “Liar! Filthy, disgusting, biological fool! No one… no comes looking for me.”

Her monocle locked onto Nickel, now attempting to place herself between the iron giant and Cody

“Ha! You’re all here because of Shockwave. That’s it, isn’t it? That one-eyed freak… he’s wanted to dissemble me for spare parts since the beginning!”

Her twisted form uncurled, the junkyard shook, and bits of debris clattered against her as she moved. “Well, go ahead and try it take me in!” A clawed thumb jabbed towards her chest. “I’ve been alone on this junk pile for millennia, and I’m still online. I still function!”

There was a renewed shower of sparks from her bad shoulder which dropped unexpectedly and ear-splitting squeals from her torso. He tirade halted and she grimaced. Her good arm drew in to support the groaning patchwork mess that was her body. Her voice was a quiet snarl.

“I’m… still…”

She didn’t speak further. Cody smoothly walked around Nickel, much to the Mini-Con's whispered fury, and continued his approach. “What’s your name?”

The Decepticon looked down at him slowly. There was a beat, and finally: “Shadow Striker.”

A fraction of tension dropped from Cody’s shoulders. “Okay, Shadow Striker. My name is Cody, and these are Nickel and Cogman.” He gestured to his partners.

Servo barked indignantly and panted. “Oh right, and this is Servo.”

Shadow Striker grunted with a toss of her head, and began to mumble, “I don’t _care_ wh-”

“If you really want us to leave, we will, but…” he looked to Nickel. “We have a medic here who might be able to help you out, even a little.”

 _“I’ll do what now?”_ Nickel shot back. She rounded on Cody with a savage look, only to immediately lose her nerve upon seeing his pained, pleading expression.

“We can’t just leave her like this!” Cody said in a hushed voice.

“We can absolutely-” Nickel tried to bunch herself up, but eventually sighed and shrugged her bladed hands. “Ugh, bleeding Spark…”

She moved to approach the larger Decepticon, who hissed like a snake, but eventually acquiesced by letting her red arm drop for access and huffed. “Fine. Hurry up, _Mini Con_.”

Nickel seethed at the tone, but still swapped her saw blades for a cauterizing tool and wrench in place of each and set about scaling the giant’s arm.

Shadow Striker, meanwhile, had shifted her focus over to Cogman, still training his weapons up at her, and growled.

“And a headmaster? Quite the menagerie…”

Her face then clenched painfully as Nickel set to work on a massive, ill-conceived elbow.

“So, Shadow Striker. Can you tell us how you ended up here?” Cody cut in quickly, seeming to want a distraction between the surgical field work of Nickel and the other Decepticon’s persistent pain.

Shadow Striker didn’t stare, so much as she glowered down at the boy. Cogman wondered if her face could even manage the facsimile of a smile. But she did respond eventually.

“Hrmm… Energon tank explosion, during a hostage situation. I got left for scrap and woke up in Shockwave’s lab.” Her voice was clipped, dry, and rumbling. “We were short on resources, back then. The good doctor wanted to chop me up and-” she stopped and inhaled sharply.

“It’s okay. We can talk about something else.” Cody said quickly, practically tripping over his own words.

But Shadow Striker continued, not even looking down at him now. “But I’m no one’s lab rat!” her purple fist clenched. “Of course I was, and am, prepared to give my life for the Decepticons, but on a medical slab? No… no, I’m going down under a Prime’s gunfire, or stomped under a Cityformers’ heel!” She spat. “Or something else… appropriate.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and finally concluded. “The whole point of Megatron’s rebellion was to allow us to choose how we wanted to live our lives. And that should include our deaths. We decide when and how we join the Allspark.”

She looked down at her legs and their awkward fusion of shapes. “I don’t care how much hurting my body needs to do until then.”

Cody looked distressed, but didn’t interrupt. Cogman hadn’t realized he’d lowered his guns until just that moment. Perhaps he’d simply gotten sloppy, but there was something in him that found her words… familiar. Admirable even. It wasn’t something he usually thought about Decepticons. Except for Nickel, and she was a class of her own besides.

“Anyways…” Shadow Striker’s posture was looser now, despite the tiny form of Nickel now balancing with one wheel on a round, red shoulder piece while she molded metal into place. “I tried to make a break for it through a space bridge, but Shockwave had his lackeys firing on me.” She flipped her good hand aside in a simplified shrug. “Something went bust. And I woke up in this place. Blinking in and out of stasis for vorns at a time.” She cast her head around slowly, over the hills of refuse. “And I’ve been keeping myself patched together with anything I can find here. Fueled by whatever I can convert.”

Nickel brushed her hands loudly together from Shadow Striker’s upper arm. “Well, you’re a roughneck in more ways than one.” Her tone was snapping. “Your self-maintenance is almost impressive given your obvious lack of technical skill or available instruments. Almost.” She wheeled herself down a massive limb to the plated ground below. “But there’s only so much I can do here. You’ll need attention by a full Cybertronian clinic and a doctor more your… size… if you want to see any long-term improvement.”

“Don’t exactly have that option, do I?” Shadow Striker snarked back, bending down to shove her face at them. Notably, there was a lack of creaking and no flaring of sparks. This didn’t pass by unnoticed; she pulled up to experimentally roll her shoulder.

“But you know…” Cody said slowly, rocking on his heels. “If you came with us, we might be able to help you out with that too.”

Shadow Striker paused, eying him, and gave a barking laugh, it was the lightest her face had ever looked in the short time they’d known her. Perhaps her temperament had improved with her persistent pain now lessened?

“And why would I do that? What can you, little squ-“ she paused and her monocle eye clicked twice before continuing. “Little Cody, what can you offer me?”

Cogman and Nickel came up on either side of Cody Burns, Servo sitting patiently at his feet.

The boy inhaled; “Well…”

***

They arrived back at the Axalon with Cody leading the party. The dock area was populated with several children of various ages attending to different tasks; sorting supplies and maintenance checks. The usual bustle. 

Cody cleared his throat and clapped his hands for attention. “Listen team. We picked up a new recruit down there. She’s..." he hesitated, "...A little different. But I want you to know that she’s very nice, and I’m sure you’ll all make her feel welcome.”

A shadow fell over him as the quaking thumps of Shadow Striker’s feet approached from behind, flanked by Cogman & Nickel scurrying to keep up. The clattering of tools and idle chattered ceased as though all the air had been sucked from the room. None of the children moved or spoke.

Cody gave another, isolated clap into the quiet.

“Okay…” Still a better reaction than he’d been honestly expecting.

Shadow Striker looked over the docking bay, glancing down at Cody from the corner of her good eye. He had his hands on his hips now and she quickly mimicked the posture, causing her red, grafted arm to creak at she bent it.

“Hmm..” her voice was loud and crackling. The motley crew gaped up at her towering form, “Megatron’s all about protecting you squishes now, yea?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh.” She paused to consider this. The mechanisms of her monocle eye spun and clicked. She tapped a single finger against her hip.

Suddenly, she jerked her helmeted head up and pointed to a young boy who had been sorting supply crates onto a hovering forklift. “Hey, you!”

The boy, along with all the other children in the bay, froze all over again. The small container he’d been holding slipped from his grip and clattered violently to the floor. He winced while his eyes stayed fixated on the violet, metal giant.

Shadow Striker huffed. “You need a spotter when doing heavy lifting like that! And you-” her monocle snapped across the room to focus in on a girl who had, until seconds ago, been fiddled with wires behind an access panel. “I want to see goggles when doing any kind of electrical work!”

She waved her purple hand in front of her scowling face and mismatched eyes. “You wanna end up like me?”

There were a few seconds of pure silence. Shadow Striker began to growl lightly when no one moved. Eyes turned to Cody, who eventually coughed and noted: “I think you better do as she says.”

Shadow Striker’s mouth turned up on one side as she observed the hubbub of children scrambling to obey her orders. She clasped her hands behind her lower back and rocked forward a bit on her square toes.

“Megatron will be _so_ _pleased_ when he sees how safe I’ve kept all these humans.”

Cody just blinked up at her.

Servo dashed past the two, yipping at the nearest mouse droid, clearly eager to restart their ‘play’ from before. The little trilling box skittered away and rounded a corner as Servo pursued. In short order, the dog bolted back the way he’d come, scrambling on the smooth flooring. He was followed by a large group of mouse droids having ganged up into a dark mass. Their signature chirping clicks layered over one another loudly.

Cody chuckled as he watched Servo flee from his newfound playmates. Cogman observed as well from the boy’s side and rubbed his segmented fingers over his metal chin thoughtfully.

“You know, young master… With our newly acquired ally, we might be able to take the fight to the enemy, so to speak.” He waved a hand up at Shadow Striker, still surveying the dock like an over enthusiastic lifeguard. “A being of that size could easily overwhelm a minimally staffed First Order transport vessel. It would allow us to free more children.”

Cody considered Cogman’s proposal, watching Servo rendered panting and helpless as the mass of tiny droids chased him in a figure eight shape about the area. “That’s… not a bad idea.” He looked over the Shadow Striker. “But are you okay with that?”

She nodded briskly. “Affirmative. I’d love an opportunity to stretch my legs after sleeping in that scrap heap for so long. Besides…” she clenched a fist at eye level. “Saving more humans can only put me on solid ground with Megatron.”

As they talked, Kel and Eila came down from a service elevator to join the group. Their yellow eyes trailed up Shadow Striker’s massive form as they approached and their steps slowed.

“Whoa…” Eila gasped quietly, marveling at their new comrade.

Shadow Striker, seeming unclear how to respond to this, simply grunted and continued looking around the landing bay. Or perhaps she was consciously posing and preening under this newfound admiration.

Kel, a little less awe stuck and a little more distressed, pulled Cody aside with a gentle arm shake. “Is that what you call _your average Cybertronian_ , Cody?” he whispered.

“Yea.”

Kel pressed his lips together and exhaled. “So, I can assume your grandfather’s a titan like her too?”

Cody gave a nervous chuckle in response and scratched his cheek self-consciously. He didn’t want to lie, not now and certainly not to Kel, but he knew this was, and would become, an uncomfortable issue.

“No… Megatron’s _way_ bigger.”

***

Space is very, very quiet, but it’s never truly silent inside of a spacecraft.

The white noise generated from occupying a moving ship that must also keep you alive within the soundless void is inescapable. Monitors and equipment inside the cockpit of Finn and Rose’s Resistance hauler beeped and pipped at random intervals. The rush of recycled air was ever present. Engines, the artificial gravity generator, and other life support systems hummed gently beneath their feet. Barely perceptible, but always there. Rose’s breath, soft with sleep, mingled together with it all. She peacefully rested in the co-pilot’s chair, blanketed under Finn’s jacket.

Finn had covered her with it when he’d noticed her brief break while they coasted through hyperspace had turned into a full nap. She’d certainly earned it, and Finn was more than capable of piloting solo for a while.

What he was less equipped to deal with was their guest. Megs was situated to the back of the cockpit in a jump seat, leaving him awkwardly hovering just behind Finn. Average sized though the seating was, Megs’ large body barely fit. He had to hunch his big shoulders while stretching out his long legs. It looked like an uncomfortable arrangement, but the man didn’t complain. As they’d boarded the ship hours before, he’d offered some grousing over his truck being crammed into the storage area; a bay meant to contain drop ships that had long since been blown to pieces in this ongoing war. But otherwise, he’d been nothing but reserved. He was engrossed in a datapad Rose had cheerfully provided earlier detailing the First Order and the Resistance’s public history. Nothing too in depth, just a general primer at this point; given that they’d only just picked the man up. Though to Finn’s mind, Megs’ reading material should all be common knowledge.

Finn pursed his lips together. The lack of conversation was getting to him. He’d become used to Rose and her constant energy, dynamism, and delight. There was always something to talk about with her, on or off a mission. Being in close quarters with a new, older, man they’d just met, and one who Finn had personally recruited was more than a little unnerving.

“So…” Finn said slowly, drawing the word out. “Getting some good reading in back there?”

Megs didn’t respond immediately, or at least, left a pause long enough for Finn to become significantly more uncomfortable before he finally received a gruff reply.

“Illuminating.”

Finn breathed a sigh out, and then immediately cursed himself for being so obvious when he heard the creaking of Megs’ hide-skin coat. Finn swiveled the captain’s chair around to face their passenger. Megs had indeed looked up at him, silver eyebrows raised and expression bemused.

“I mean…” Finn continued carefully. “It’s just kinda weird that you don’t know about this stuff.”

Megs blinked back at him and left another uncomfortable pause. “As I said, I’ve been busy.”

“But Lothal is super public about their anti-First Order stance. How could you not know?”

This seemed to catch Megs’ interest, and his eyes gleamed sharply. “I never said I was from Lothal.”

Finn waited Megs to continue, but again, was treated to a pregnant pause. This was beginning to feel like a sparring match without weapons. He kept his eyes on the old man long enough for Megs to eventually sigh.

“I’m from a… very distant world. Had its own set of problems. Kept me busy.”

“Oh yea? What kind of problems?”

Megs’ hard stare was the only response.

“What?” Finn replied, his palms felt sweaty under the cutting gaze and he tried to rub his hands on his upper thighs in a way that looked casual. “I’m just making conversation.”

There was quiet for a while longer. Megs turned to the datapad, not to keep reading, but to gesticulate with it. “Distressingly familiar; this First Order. Attempting to impose the will of one over others, emerging out of turbulent politics. Taking advantage of fear.”

He paused, his scarred lips were up, giving him the appearance of dog half snarling. “On my planet… there was a very ridged caste system. You were born into a role, you worked in that role, you died in that role. I was a laborer…” a dry laugh, “… eventually turned gladiator.”

Finn wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh along too. He leaned forward. At least it was an explanation for why the old man seemed so at home in that gruesome pit.

“Our High Council turned a blind eye to the combat. It let us work out tensions.” The brim of his hat was low over Megs' eyes. They had a hard, disturbing set to them, like when Finn had first met him back in the fields.

“But that also meant I could acquire a following outside of the ring. Big enough to rise up against those who would beat us down and deny us self-determination.” More grim laughter, “But… self-determination, to me, ended up meaning the slaughter of everyone who stood in my path.”

Finn wasn’t aware he’d make a noise of discomfort in the back of his throat until it was already out. Megs came back to the present and he locked a sour, cutting expression onto the Resistance fighter.

“You asked.”

Finn couldn’t think of quite what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“I told you before, I’m not a good person.” Megs glowered, but eventually continued in a moderately kinder voice. “I won’t bore you with the longform details of my escapades...”

In a rough attempt to lighten the mood, Finn found himself mumbling; “Oh no, please _don’t_ tell me about your history inciting a violent uprising.”

To his surprise, this did get a genuine laugh out of Megs. He leaned back a bit, one legs splayed to the side and his posture opened. The laughter eventually faded and Megs' voice grew distant, almost somber with more memories.

“Upon reflection… I suspect I never truly left the gladiator pit. There was only ever me, my opponent, and the crowd. The crowd cheers regardless, so you’d better be damn sure you give them a show.”

Finn had some critical thoughts about that sort of analogy, but he didn’t voice them. Megs’ head titled up to look at the cockpit ceiling. A red sensor light blinked overhead, casting his silver mane in a crimson tint. “The fighting went on for… a great amount of time. I hurt others. Enthralled them. Disappointed them. Dominated them…”

The sensor light clicked off.

“Before I realized it, I’d become old. Broken. I lost my taste for battle, and for inflicting suffering.” His voice had become thin and strained, “One day I looked around and realized my planet was saved. Not by me, but _from_ me. I wasn’t worthy to walk upon it, or work upon it…”

Megs’ hat gently slipped from his head and came to the ground with a hollow _swish_. The old man didn’t move to retrieve it or make any acknowledgement that it moved at all.

“I wandered the galaxy alone, for a while. Eventually, I came to a planet, blue oceans and green forests.” Megs’ voice was wistful. Finn was reminded of when Rey and himself had walked through the lush grounds of Takodana for the first time. It made his heart clench; Rey had been happier then.

“Nothing like my old home, but I thought it a suitable place to wait out my days. And then…” Megs seemed to come back to himself at that moment and reached up to his head, gnarled fingers touched lightly at his iron-coloured hair, missing his hat.

Without being asked, Finn leaned forward to fetch the fallen object and passed it up. The two men locked eyes and Megs was still for a few seconds before he finally clasped it with one hand and gave another half-smile from rough lips. “And that’s when I met my grandson.”

“Wait… you _met_ him?”

“Indeed. Cody Burns found me. In a cave.” Megs placed his hat back on and was fiddling with he brim. His silhouette looked solid again. “He entreated his goodly father to allow me to join their little…” he cut himself off and hummed. “No. _Large_ family.”

Finn was still pressed forward in his chair and he placed his hands on both his knees. “Wait, so like, you were… adopted?”

Megs’ eyebrows angled down, and he leaned forward as well. “And is there a problem with that?”

At this, Finn realized how close their faces had become and he drew back quickly, hands coming up. “No! Of course not. It’s just… surprising. It’s usually... like, the other way around?”

When Megs just stared back, unblinking, Finn continued. “Hey man, I was taken in by the Resistance too. I… I didn’t have anybody else. Now I do. And this wasn’t that long ago so… I understand.”

He rubbed self-consciously at his lower chin. “Look. I was… I was a stormtrooper.” Finn left space Megs’ reaction, but none came. The giant of a man just sat there and looked back with his frightening, scarred face. The silence was nauseating in the anxiety it produced. When it became clear Megs was waiting for Finn to continue speaking, he did so.

“I was a trooper, I didn’t have a name, I had a number. FN-2187.” His thoughts flashed uncomfortably back to the arena on Lothal, that other trooper whispering the designation with reverence, and then throwing himself into fire for them. It made his guts churn harder and his throat felt tight.

“Like so many others, I got grabbed when I was a just a kid and forced into their war. It was all I knew my whole life. But I got out. I got a name, I met Poe.” He took a long look to his right at his sleeping partner. Peaceful as an angel. “I met Rose. I met Rey, the whole Resistance. They gave me a new home, a family, and-”

There was so much he wanted to convey, and he just didn’t have the words to say it. “And, yea, I’m angry at the First Order still. I hate them. They’ve destroyed so much. Rose lost her home to them. But… I…”

Suddenly, he was back on Crait, the roar of the First Order army all around them. The burn of salt in the air. But all he could truly perceive was Rose, beaten and bloody lying underneath him. Her lips a reprieve from the violence; so soft on his own.

_… saving what we love._

“I’m not looking to cause pain. I just wanna live. As Finn.”

_Isn’t that enough?_

Finn didn’t know how long the two of them went without speaking. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. He was looking down at his own hands, wound together. What a small blessing it was to look down at the skin of your own hands and not see them bound up in the armor of your captors.

Eventually, Megs’ gruff voice cut through the stillness.

“D-16.”

Finn’s eyes came up. “What’s that?”

Megs’ voice was a low rumble. “D-16. My laborer name.”

They were quiet. The ship hummed around them.

Finn wanted to hug him at that moment. Or at least, he was struck by the urge. He wasn’t certain if this was the correct or even marginally acceptable response to this kind of exchange, but it was a desire he felt all the same. He wished desperately for Poe; there was a man who embraced others so easily and always knew just how to draw a comrade in, offer warmth, and communicate empathy. Again, Finn was so grateful to Rose, who offered touch as easily as spoken words; a brush on the arm, fingers entwined. It always made him feel grounded, secure, and loved.

Finn looked at Megs, with his frightening eyes, worn clothing, and overly large body. He also thought about all the things that couldn’t been seen physically but were there, blatant as scars. A caustic tongue, a sharp mind full of judgement and callousness. A frightening past of violence and terror. Despite all of that…

The moment evaporated, blinked out of existence like a soap bubble popping. Rose shifted from beneath Finn’s jacket and her head came up.

“Oh… You guys talking?” she rubbed at an eye with one hand and smoothed her wild bangs with the other.

“We have some things in common, it seems,” Megs rumbled before Finn could speak, offering Rose a brief smile. “Although…” he rose, “I now believe Finn a wiser man than I in every conceivable way.”

Finn flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, he didn’t even notice Rose throwing his own jacket over him until his vision was blocked.

“Hey!” As he fumbled with the material, Rose was already up and by Megs’ side.

“That’s cuz you haven’t had bonding time with me yet.” She said playfully. Finn was again enraptured by Rose’s social ease and ability. He wondered if that was something he could improve too. Like training with a blaster or piloting techniques.

“So, how’d you pick up ‘Megs’, then?” Rose inquired pleasantly, but with a bold edge. Evidently, she’d been listening in.

Megs looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. Seeming amused by her guile more than anything else.

“From _Megatronus_. One of the Thirteen. The gods of my world.”

Rose's eyebrows went up and she puffed out her cheeks. “That’s… intense.”

“Well, don’t look too impressed. He wasn’t a particularly _nice_ god.” Megs sighed a little. “I was younger then.”

Finn slid his jacket back on and playfully chuckled, "Yea, all the cool kids are naming themselves after dark deities."

The jolly atmosphere was broken by an alarm, not a high priority one, but enough to send two yellow, rotating lights out from the dash accompanied by a recurring wail.

Rose cursed, shifting her face to all business, and was back in the co-pilot’s chair. “Fuel’s too low.” She said bluntly, flipping at switches. “We’ll need to stop and refuel if we want to make it back to base.”

Finn didn’t respond, knowing full well why they were using more power than usual, having picked so much extra weight. Instead, he busied himself trying to shut off that infernal alarm… only to instead accidentally activate a shortwave commercial radio line, which flooded the cabin with the warm, brassy tones of a female singer.

_“Can anybody, find me? Find me? Somebody… to love?”_

Megs went very still. His red eyes shot wide.

The women’s voice held a high note before the buttery voice of a promoter slid in. _“The Chartreuse Chanteuse dazzles in her daily performance, here, in the Lunar Lounge!”_

Megs had an odd tone in his voice. “The Lunar Lounge?”

Rose made a _pish_ sound from the corner of her lips. She clicked the channel quiet. “Yea, it’s one of, like, _forty_ in the galaxy. Everyone claims they’re the original but-“

Megs cut her off. “We should go there.”

The Resistance pair turned around to him. Their ship came out of hyperspace and into the dark stillness of space. Megs stood up, his full height crowding the space, and walked between them. He had his hands on his hips.

“It seems I’m required to catch a show.”

***

Kylo Ren had not, in fact, called the debriefing with his generals immediately upon returning to the Steadfast.

He’d needed to safely stow his new acquisition away in his personal quarters first. The spark was compliant, but flared and spun with distress when it was sealed up in a containment tube which was then slid into a hidden compartment by the Supreme Leader’s own bedside. This was enough to draw out the process and Kylo had attempted to verbally soothe the orb briefly before departing.

It wasn’t an ideal solution. In truth, Kylo would have rather let it have the run of his rooms. Not to mention that he wished for a long stretch of uninterrupted time to study the object. But these were desires he could not indulge at the moment; the spark was secure from prying eyes this way. Locked away where only Kylo Ren could be spectator to its brilliance, and one day, its power.

A rare lightning bug in a jar.

Being separated from it was anxiety inducing, however. Compounded with his expedition to Mustafar, Kylo Ren’s body was wracked with exhaustion, as it often was. Throttling Hux provided a brief means of stress relief, as it often did. But in truth, he’d brought an early close to the meeting for no other reason than he was tired and longing to return to his rooms for sleep. At least he should make a go of seeking rest, he would need a fresh head to oversee the upcoming journey to Kamino.

Kylo entered the bright white space of his quarters, with high ceilings afforded only to individuals of the highest rank within the First Order. It was fastidiously clean, of course. Limited in personal affects, save for the dark, sunken mass that was the painstakingly recovered mask of Darth Vader; displayed prominently. With a brief extension of the Force, Kylo doused the flood lights, sinking the rooms into perfect, impenetrable darkness. With practiced memorization of the room, he drifted to his bed. Secure in the knowledge that the spark was humming in its tube, out of sight but held in mind, from within the wall.

Sleep didn’t typically come easy for Kylo Ren, nor had it come to Ben Solo. This had begun long before his time within the First order, and persisted long after the death of Snoke. There was always some new nightmare to arrive in, or cobble together from the day’s trials. Today was no different.

He was back in his… no… just an old house on Chandrila. A house where young Ben Solo had lived. As was often the case in dreams, the layout was strange and bizarre. Familiar rooms fused together into new spaces; filtered through the surreal logic of a sleeping mind. The roof was unnaturally high above him, and the walls stretched up to meet it. He felt very small, maybe he was a child again. A baby even. It was difficult to perceive himself or gain a tactile sense of his body.

Blearily, he walked through the ominous halls, his steps feeling gummed down as though sloshing through mud. He could hear his parents’ voices. Muffled and angry, echoing over and over within the bent construction of the manor. Every wall seemed to feature their shadows. Their words weren’t perceptible, but they didn’t need to be. There were a million arguments, fights, caustic hisses sniped at each other from his childhood memories. Han Solo roaring about the demands placed upon him with their lifestyle, how his wife never made time for him. Leia’s screams of Han’s petulance and childishness. Their persistent fear of their son and his power.

It all made his stomach feel like it was sliding out through his feet.

The setting began to change. The shadows of his parents, interlocking in rage, warped and grew even larger. Their shapes were becoming unfamiliar, inhuman even, with odd points and blocky shoulders. The walls shifted, becoming more solid. Wood and composite construction plaster slid away to reveal pure metal with scales and triangular embellishments. Everything was awash in a gloomy, purple light. As Kylo Ren walked along the cold floors, he felt the muffled voices of Han Solo and Leia Organa sink away, overlapping and eventually being drowned out with new voices. Both were male and impossibly deep. One was a rich baritone, yet held a frightened, pleading tone. The other was raspier and growling, snarling back at the entreating speaker.

“I must know…” the inquiring voice rolled through Kylo’s mind. It hummed in his bones as he moved towards it. His steps were freer now, he could run. He rounded a corner into a new room, a laboratory of some kind. Massive monitors and tables composed of sleek metal towered over him like gargantuan beasts. Kylo often felt an ill fit no matter where he was. Too big in the waking world, too small in a dream world.

He came to a sharp halt. Before him were two giants: fantastic and horrific in their scale. Roughly in the shape of human men but bulked over with strange armor. One was red, blue, and silver with a massive chest comprised of glass windows and rubber wheels adorning his thighs. His dark hands were held up, beseeching before his partner.

_“Who am I?”_

**_“You are my clerk!”_** The other titan thundered back. The room shook with the force of his voice. He was sleeker and almost shark-like in design. Nearly all silver, topped with frightening spikes on his shoulders. His head was a massive, silver helmet, holding a nightmarish face of angry, red eyes, and scars dragged down over mouth full of fangs. "Now, get back to work."

 _He was terrifying._ The fear and agony of overhearing his parents quarrel deep in the night was replaced with a raw, more primal horror of being rendered tiny and helpless before a predator’s claws and teeth. Kylo Ren could feel his heartbeat kicking against his ribs, he pressed himself the wall and willed this dream to conclude.

Luckily, the silver giant didn’t seem to perceive the lowly form of a human. He was occupied by threatening the other. Their conflict grew more heated, and they crowded each other's space.

At that moment, the round blues eyes of the first giant locked onto Kylo, who inhaled a sharp breath. Everything froze, including the silver fanged creature; his menacing figure rendered motionless but still horrible to behold. The room, and the dream itself, began the fall away like sand pouring from a glass until it was just the two of them; a tiny frightened human and a great, metal being with wide, searching eyes.

_Those eyes… they were the same blue as the spark._

Kylo Ren came awake with a strangled gasp. His chest and torso heaved, slick with sweat. Immediately, his eyes screwed themselves shut reflexively; his sleeping chamber was brighter than it usually was upon waking.

The room was aglow in soft blue light from the spark. The panel had come open, somehow by its own accord, and the clear containment tube with its gleaming prize on full display.

Adjusting to the light, Kylo steadied his breathing and leaned towards the tube, resting a damp palm onto the glass. It would leave an ugly smudge, but that didn’t matter now. The casing was warm, but not burning. He held his hands there, gently, as his heart slowed its galloping pace. The spark thrummed.

“What did you show me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are very much appreciated!


	4. The Great Pretender

“I’ve walked across the barren waste of my own dead homeworld… And this ship is infinitely more depressing.”

Knock Out didn’t care for the Millennium Falcon very much.

He’d screamed in a mix of disgust and abject horror upon seeing the ship, despite ferrying Rey, Poe, and BB-8 there with minimal complaint. When Chewbacca emerged from the gangplank in a flurry of greeting bellows, Knock Out had screamed louder, even jumping up onto one leg like a young lady frightened by an errant scurrier.

To the Wookiee’s credit, he’d roared right back until Poe could explain the situation. Later, in private, Chewie had even jovially confessed to Rey that it was exactly the type of reaction he preferred to receive from strangers, particularly such large ones. It was a sign of respect befitting a warrior. Rey didn’t think this was precisely what Knock Out had been conveying, but she elected to not press the issue.

Of greater concern was simply the housing of their new guest. Knock Out could drive through _some_ of the cargo shafts as a vehicle just fine. But only Rey’s makeshift “workshop” had a roof height generous enough for him to function in robot mode. Even then, he was forced to a sitting or low crouching position, much to his displeasure. The Falcon, in general, seemed tailor made to offend his sensibilities; with its battered hull, off-colour walls, persistent rust, and porgs that crept under foot.

And the metal giant wasn’t at all shy about making his feelings known.

What ultimately proved to be the remedy for Knock Out’s malaise was to get him talking about his favourite topic; himself. Hence why Rey found herself in her workshop, under the pretense of continuing her sacred work on the lightsaber, but largely serving as a sounding board for Knock Out to bounce his own life story off. Poe and Chewie, having so graciously gifted the task to her, had hurried off to the bridge in order to pilot the Falcon back to base. Still, it felt like a noble sacrifice if it kept the giant, mechanical creature with unknown abilities in a pleasant mood.

It wasn’t as though she was making much progress on the weapon anyways.

“And then, Optimus Prime turned to us and said _we had all proven ourselves as valiant Autobots_ , but he was looking at me. Specifically. So, I knew that my time within Decepticon ranks was entirely forgiven, and that _we_ had something special. Obviously…”

Rey didn’t have anything to say in response, but she couldn’t help but smile, if for no other reason than for the theatrical waving of Knock Out’s slim hands. He certainly was an entertaining fellow. BB-8 remained loyally by Rey’s side under the pretense of ‘guarding her against this big, red newcomer.’ Though now that they were a ways into Knock Out’s patented brand of storytelling, Rey suspected that BB-8 simply enjoyed hearing tales of adventure between two, warring robot factions.

And it was quite the story! A saga spanning several hundred thousand, if not millions of years, considering the prolonged lifespans of these beings. It was a story of an angry gladiator amassing an army to violently conquer the planet that had oppressed him, only to become driven mad by a lust for violence & conquest. To hear Knock Out tell it, the red medic had been swept up by the rhetoric of this gladiator, Megatron. And then eventually seduced, _again_ _Knock Out’s own words_ , by the power of righteousness wielded by the noble Autobot leader, Optimus Prime. 

It reminded her of listening to tales from travelers back on Jakku; rare moments of wonder and escapism peppered between days of hard labour. They had served as a chance to let her mind steal away from the hot sands and into high flying adventure. That had been where she’d first heard of the great Luke Skywalker, the Rebellion, and legends of the Jedi. Reflecting on this also made her remember meeting Luke as a flesh and blood person and all the complex disappointment that came with it. He’d been a man who wanted to burn away his own legendary status, who didn’t want to be known for anything, or to be known at all. And yet… contradictory to the end, he’d saved them.

_Everything is so much simpler in stories._

BB-8 warbled a question and rocked his circular body, interrupting the fabulist.

Momentum halted, Knock Out blinked down at the orange orb. “What kind of question is that? _‘How did I know?’_ Ha!” he tossed his head to the side, exposing the black cords that patterned his white neck, “Well, it’s true that Optimus was never the type to simply state his feelings. Being a Prime and all. But you could read it in his eyes!”

A bubbling chuckle refused to be quashed in Rey’s throat. It burst out from behind her teeth with enough force to cause her to drop one of her tools. The clatter drowning out BB-8’s indignant response. The little droid whirled on her in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t mind me.” Rey waved a hand and quickly began setting her equipment to rights. She hadn’t laughed like that in… well, in some time. It felt good. Little wonder that it had startled her droid companion.

BB-8 kept his one eye on Rey’s smiling face for perhaps longer than was respectful, but eventually swung back to the Cybertronian to beep an incredulous sounding statement. It made Knock Out flick several fingers and raise an eyebrow.

“Rey’s like a Prime? Look, little ball, don’t think you’ve been paying attention. Primes are a class of their own. Reserved, calm, and selfless mediators. They cast aside their personal ambitions to lead, and are rewarded…” A claw came up to his lips and he nibbled at it with metal teeth. “…with fantastic power, _robust bodies_ , and sexy upgrades.”

After a few minutes of overt fantasizing over big, beautiful Primes, Knock Out’s red eyes came back into focus and he looked down at Rey. “She’s more of a wizard.”

BB-8 leaned to the side inquisitively and Rey mirrored the droid, playfully. “Oh?”

“Of course! I’ve seen plenty of wizards… in movies. At drive-in theatres.” When Rey and BB-8 didn’t respond, Knock Out continued, speaking more rapidly. “That move you pulled back there… Blasting all those awful men away.” He brought his hands together as if holding a thin object between them and mimed striking it to the ground several times. “ _You shall not_ … proceed?”

There was a pause. Rey slowly turned her head over to BB-8, who met her bewildered gaze.

Knock Out huffed, “Well, it’s not about the specifics. It’s the emotion behind it, darlings. The emotions!”

Rey couldn’t help chuckling again. Knock Out appeared miffed for a few moments, but when he realized he wasn’t being laughed at, he joined in. A warm moment of casual levity.

Reality came creeping up on Rey as the yellow glow of her crystal caught her eyes from the workbench- demanding her attention, eager to subject her to another round of failure. Rey could practically feel her face falling.

Knock Out, either due to perceiving her changed expression, or perhaps just not wanting to stop talking, cut in. “See, you’ve got a magical gemstone and everything. Total sorceress.”

“I’m a Jedi,” Rey replied softly, without looking up at him. “Or at least… I’m supposed to be.” She reached for the pieces of the old Skywalker lightsaber, running her fingers over the embellishments. She wanted its history and knowledge to soak through her skin. “I’m supposed to be calm too. Reserved, a protector of peace… All of that. But…”

Without conscious thought, she floated the kyber crystal before her at eye level, bright as star. The half-formed saber rose to meet it. They came together, through the force of her will, but refused to form any sort of permanent shape. The pieces fell to the floor while the crystal remained, hovering in place. BB-8 watched at her side, transfixed. He gave a little jump and a concerned trill when the saber came crashing down.

“I’m not there yet. I’m missing too much. I can’t even make my own weapon…”

Knock Out looked at her. He remained silent for a long moment before eventually sighing and leaning back on his palms. He settled into a childlike posture, with the soles of his pointed, metal feet pressed gently together.

“Well, if this was a movie, I’d say you don’t need a weapon.” His eyes went wide and round, while his rich voice took on a preaching quality, as though he were a moral spouting father figure from an old holo program. _“Oh honey, you had the power inside you all along!”_

The affect dropped instantly, along with his dark eyebrows. “But, no, seriously. If you’re looking for the expert advice of someone whose literal job it is to put mechanical life forms back together...” He nodded towards the crystal and tapped the side of his head. “That stone’s emitting way too much power to be contained in those busted bits.” His red eyes angled to the remnants of the Skywalker lightsaber, in pieces at Rey’s feet. “You need to split its output somehow; share the load. And change up the containment field, something longer…”

Rey gave a little gasp in realization. _Of course!_

Knock Out trailed off as she bolted to her feet, eyes bright, sweeping clear a section of her work bench with a great shove. She grasped her old quarterstaff, its familiar heft in her hands providing a flash of comfort. This weapon had saved her life back on Jakku more times than she could count. But she didn’t grab at it for nostalgic reasons. In fact, she quickly clamped it into a holding vice, and within seconds, had drawn out a laser cutter and sliced her long-time companion in twain without batting an eye. BB-8 yowled in surprise, but Rey didn’t slow her pace to soothe or address him. There was no need for sentimentality, or sorrow. This was not a death, but a rebirth.

Her fingers moved quickly. Somewhere in the background, Knock Out was emitting a humming noise of intrigue, but Rey could barely hear him. All of the sound went out of the workshop. It was just herself and this task now, the only real things in the universe. She couldn’t be sure if she was using her hands at all or willing the Force to draw tools and objects to her. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was as though a key had turned within her mind’s eye, opening a splinter of an idea into a complete vision. The shape of the lightsaber, her saber, had become unlocked. Ignorant and blind, she had been trying to forge into an entirely inappropriate form. Now, everything was solid and clear.

Knock Out was bobbing his glossy, red head, trying to get a look in while BB-8 held a respectful distance back. The porgs, driven into their dens by Knock Out’s boisterous voice since his arrival, poked their soft faces out in curiosity.

Time and sound came back to Rey. Her body was humming, but all was still. It was done.

She held up her quarterstaff in one hand. I had been re-forged into something resembling its original shape, but with two ports at the sides, and further new components in the middle. Even now, she could sense the raw power of the crystal within, like a set of lungs drawing air in and out. She ignited it.

Twin blades of golden white erupted forth from each end, singing with power and filling the room with light, reflected back in BB-8’s round, reverent eye.

“Shiny!” Knock Out declared happily and clapped his claw tips together in appreciation. Then more quietly, he whispered; "So... That's a Jedi's weapon..."

Exhaling, Rey gripped the centre with two hands. There was a click, and the saber-staff came apart into two distinct lightsabers. Over her shoulder, she could hear Knock Out and BB-8 cooing in surprise. This reaction washed over her like rain over a waterfowl’s back. Her focus was entirely upon her new weapon. Two becoming one. They fit perfect in her hands, beautiful and constant. The grip familiar, but new all at once.

Elation coursed through Rey’s veins. She’d done it at last!

Maz’s gift hadn’t gone to waste. Rey had brought a proper Jedi’s weapon to life. It was new, it was different, it was strange. She’d have to learn to fight two handed, but oh, even that was exciting! A light had come on within her. For the first time in a very long while, her future seemed bright with the promise of adventure and new possibilities.

And she hadn’t needed to do it alone…

Rey turned, smiling up at Knock Out, her face open and full of life. She gave a few practice twirls of the sabers, slowly and carefully at first, a safe distance from her mechanical companions. Like a child showing off a new trick to fawning parents. Knock Out was all too happy to keep clapping and smiling, his pale face displaying the expression of a delighted cat. Perhaps he was experiencing genuine pride in her accomplishment, or perhaps it was simply due to the pure entertainment of seeing bright tubes of light hiss and hum through the air. Either way, Rey was bursting with gratitude.

“Thank you!” she half whispered, half shouted. She couldn’t be sure, there was so much rare delight within her.

Something in Knock Out altered. His eyes came open and he looked surprised, shocked even, at receiving this recognition. He shrunk down a bit, almost shyly. His big, bright smile became restrained, yet more honest.

“O-oh… You’re…” he recovered quickly, sitting up straight and flashing his pearly teeth. “Well, of course! You’re very welcome!”

***

Rey ran through the halls of the Falcon, weapon in hand, and steps light. Energized and eager to share her accomplishment with Poe and Chewie. Finally, a tangible piece of iconography for a Jedi Knight. Proof that they were right to have General Organa dedicate so much time to training her, to put such faith in her. That Luke hadn’t been the last. Rey was here and she was worthy to be among them.

She came to a sudden stop. The air had shifted, not in scent or temperature, but in a more subtle and all-encompassing way. There was a figure standing just at her right. A man, but not Poe’s shape and certainly no Wookie, obscured by a humble brown robe. His arms bent behind his back as he gazed out of one of the Falcon’s few viewports.

Although he was unfamiliar, Rey knew who he was, immediately and instinctually.

“After all this time,” she said softly. “You show yourself now?”

Anakin Skywalker turned smoothly to face her, bringing both hands up to lower his hood and sighed, “Well… I didn’t think anyone would want to see me.”

He was rimmed in a faint, blue light and was almost transparent. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking Anakin’s lean face, cut with a scar, and deep, soulful eyes. Rey had seen his image sparingly, mostly in historical documents and old Republic army training holos; though exceedingly few had survived the war. Leia didn’t dwell on the memories of her biological father, and Rey saw no reason to press. She could empathize with feelings of hurt and betrayal from a parent, or parents, you never really knew.

Despite this, there was so much in Anakin’s face that reminded her of Leia. And Luke too. The set of their eyebrows, their lips, the expressions they all made. So much had come together to make these people. It made her heart clench.

To look at him, Rey supposed Anakin was more classically handsome than Ben Solo. Even as a ghost, Anakin possessed even features, thick hair that set into natural waves, and a light form belying his physical strength. A contrast to Ben, who seemed to have every part skewed towards the overly large and cumbersome.

Despite that, a memory came to her unbidden, of her time with Luke when she’d first began connecting to the now Supreme Leader. Kylo Ren, stripped to the waist in his chambers. She could never forget the way his body looked, and what it stirred within her. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him, despite all the rage and poisonous hatred she held for the man. And she couldn’t forget how hungry Kylo’s… Ben’s… gaze had been either.

Anakin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry I can’t measure up to my grandson in the looks department.”

Rey’s face grew hot, but she didn’t say anything. Of course, there was no concealing anything in the Force. Surely, in this dire hour, a man of this importance hadn’t appeared before her simply to tease.

Again, Anakin Skywalker responded without her needing to speak her mind. “No. That’d be more of a Luke thing.”

Rey breathed out with exasperation and embarrassment. Perhaps not the most mature display before a Jedi Force ghost, but it seemed they were past standing on ceremony.

“Why have you come?”

This time, Anakin didn’t respond immediately, merely nodding to her saber-staff. “I see you’ve constructed your own lightsaber. That’s good…” his eyes were full of memories. “To know your weapon is to know yourself. But, I can’t help but think you're not being honest.”

Rey’s grip tightened on her staff and her stomach dropped. No... She didn’t have time for doubts now. She’d been happy and proud mere moments before. He couldn’t take that from her.

“Just what are you-”

“Rey.” Anakin’s voice was sharp and commanding. An echo of his years leading Clone Troopers into battle. “I am asking you a question. Is this truly what you want? Being a Jedi for the Resistance, in this war, in this way… Is this the future you see for yourself?”

“O-of course it is,” Rey replied hastily, cursing the lack of conviction she could hear in her own words. The fear. The uncertainty. “I’m going to become a Jedi. A symbol for the Resistance. It’s what is…” she willed her voice to strengthen. Perhaps that would steel her resolve. “It’s what's best for everyone.”

_Then I’ll have a purpose._

_I’ll be needed._

_I’ll have a place in this story._

“That’s not what I asked,” Anakin replied flatly, face taut with disappointment. He looked so much like his son in that moment, and it made her insides flare with rage. _Why couldn’t they be the understanding and agreeable heroes they were supposed to be?_

“What do you _want_ , Rey?”

She felt halfway between sobbing in frustration and screaming in rage. “What does _what I want_ matter now?”

_When has it ever?_

Anakin persisted, stepping towards her. His presence in the Force was awesome and terrible; a tangible presence emanating from a man long dead. 

“Is that it? Are you just an empty vessel? A tool for the Force and the will of others? That’s not-“ his voice had grown frighteningly deep, a reminder that this man was both Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader. The two could never truly be untangled, not now or ever.

But still, he reigned his anger in to continue, calmer now. “That isn’t how living beings operate. It’s not how they _can_ operate. Fighting against it only leads to…” he left the conclusion unsaid, hanging in the air. “So please, tell me… what do you really want?”

Rey had a vision in that moment. Perhaps it was her own desires extending through the Force, or perhaps it was simply her deep, lonely imagination made physical.

She was standing on a beautiful palace terrace overlooking a lush, wild garden of jungle plants and flowing rivers. Pure, warm wind lifted at her hair, unbound over her shoulders. A rushing waterfall spilled from the parapet, filling the air with soothing sounds. Elegant birds, every colour of the rainbow, flew overhead.

She was wearing a white gown that floated airy in the breeze. And she was not alone. There was a man behind her, large and solid. His thick arms entwined at her torso as his lips pressed into the side of her neck. Rich, dark hair tickling her ears.

Rey said a name with slow breath, whispered with love, safety, and happiness. _“Ben…”_

Then it all fell away, like sand through a sieve. She was back in the Falcon, to the harsh beige and blinking lights. And Anakin’s expectant face. His anger was replaced with something else. His eyes were round, watery, and beseeching.

“You… deserve happiness. Not because of what you do, but because you’re alive.” He was so close to her now, close enough to have wrapped his own arms about her, if that were possible. “It’s not right that you were denied for so long. But that doesn’t have to be the end of it. You don’t need legacy or a title to give your life purpose.”

More visions flowed through Rey’s eyes. Endless nights on Jakku. The blistering heat of the sun matched by the frigid darkness in the night. Rows upon rows of markings slashed into the walls of her home. Not to count the passage of time, but to prove something; prove that there was a reason for her patience. A purpose to it all. That she wasn’t just another useless, empty thing blasted by sand and left to rust.

“What do the wants of an orphan from the desert matter?” Rey choked out before she could stop herself. She could hold back tears, but her throat was becoming weighted with strain.

Anakin threw up his hands, his voice desperate. _“Have you forgotten what an orphan from the desert can do?”_

The flooring of the Falcon was shaking beneath her feet. It rattled every part of her being. Was it his power; his rage made physical? Or was it her own anger that made the ship and her joints quake? She braced her legs and held her staff vertically up to her face. It was an attempt to regain decorum, to look as though she was preparing to fight. But, honestly, she knew she was hiding behind it.

Her lips curled.

“Why are you telling _me_ this? Why not seek out your grandson; the man who rules the First Order?”

“He won’t listen to me!” Anakin bellowed back, but it was out of sadness and not wrath. He was gesturing with a pale, ungloved hand to his chest.

“That poor child… He’d been targeted by the Dark Side since before he was born. I tried to help, to intervene. To say something… I tried!” he took several steps backward, his form growing fainter. “My children… The Skywalker bloodline is a story of such horrible things. I’ve done so much. I could never be a father too them. And I couldn’t… I can’t help Ben.”

His words haunted Rey and made her spine stiffen. They were all thoughts that had churned, violent and painful, in her own head. Since the death of Snoke, since Crait. Since all of it. But what could she have done? It was Ben’s will to turn against her. His will to send hellfire and death down upon his own mother. It was that powerful will, that strength of personality, that drew her to him in the first place. Was it because she respected him, despite her horror at his actions, that she fought against him?

_I couldn’t save him. I’ll save everyone else instead._

Anakin breathed heavily, his ghostly form becoming less opaque as he calmed. He wiped a hand down his face and sighed. “I’m no longer part of the living.” His arm dropped and he gave a half smirk. “Obviously. I cannot seek out happiness, fulfillment, new experiences. That’s all in the past. I’m removed from the equation, but you…” he held an open palm out to Rey. “You’re still alive.”

Rey regarded Anakin Skywalker; the great man who had shaped so much of history, saved so many, and then killed so many. Brought the galaxy to heel under the Emperor’s boot. All that destruction from one man, one boy, who simply wanted to live in freedom alongside his mother. Of course, he desired his family’s happiness even now. Of course, the man who burned Jedi temples to the ground in desperation to save his wife and unborn children would weigh the needs of certain people higher than all the lives on every world. Rey wished, more than anything, that she could agree with and oblige his requests. But no, there was too much at stake here. He didn’t understand the sacrifice she was willing to make for the Resistance, for the future. The future of everyone else.

Yet the vision of her and Ben on Naboo though… _that was where they had been, wasn’t it?_ It clung to her mind and didn’t let go. It was a future that she wanted to manifest. Beyond all reason.

She closed her eyes. Willing the grace and cool detachment of a proper Jedi Master to flow within her. To face the chaos of the galaxy with an unflinching commitment to her solemn duty.

“If Ben Solo wishes to find happiness… He must seek it himself. He must choose his own path. As I have mine.”

When she opened her eyes, Anakin Skywalker was gone. She was alone again.

Exhaling slowly, she pressed her forehead into the cool metal of her saber-staff. She could hear the powerful song of the crystal within. It was right and important, what she was doing. To commit to this cause. To ensure the galaxy rallied behind the image of The Last Jedi. To serve as symbol for all those losing hope. She must set her feelings aside. It was right.

It was.

_Wasn’t it?_

***

The Lunar Lounge was a standout location in a glittery city, a few sizes shy of a metropolis, located on the plains of Arbiflux. A tall, broad structure framed by spotlights shining slow, bright circles over the low, dark clouds of the sky. Three dimensional holographic projections of the club’s attractions, elegant singers and musicians, at least twenty feet tall, cycled over the roof. The visual atmosphere of the burg seemed a few centuries behind general, galactic development as well, though it all may have been intentional for the sake of aesthetics. Nowhere near the splendor and excess of Canto Bight, which had been a destination purely structured around escapism and play for the rich. This was indeed a functioning city, fueled by industry and overflowing with a permanent populace that flocked to an entertainment district in the evening.

Open-roofed luxury speeds glided low over streets made of raised stone. Ornate, glass lamps were lit with real flame, casting an orange, flickering glow over the crowds of human and aliens strolling down narrow boulevards. The warm browns and reds of brick buildings were highlighted with golden embellishments, adding an air of opulence that contrasted with the heavy smoke and pollution that hung thick in the air from the vehicles and factories that framed the downtown core.

Rose had parked their transport just shy of city limits, avoiding the spaceports as usual and greasing the palms of a nearby fueling depot to see to their ship. No sooner had they parked then Megs had made a hasty exit into town, grumbling that the tight pack of the city wouldn’t allow his truck to drive right up to the club. And so, they walked, Rose and Finn scrambling to keep up with the long strides of Megs’ legs. It became easier to keep pace as the buildings grew taller and the crowds thicker. Finn could feel Megs’ frustration rolling off him in hot waves as they were boxed in in by the locals, with their fur stoles and large hats, evidently the style of the year.

The old man pulled ahead of them when the Lunar Lounge was in sight, avoiding the lines indicated by velvet ropes and bulky droid bouncers. His eyes briefly glanced up a projection of the Chartreuse Chanteuse herself, a waist-up depiction of a beautiful woman with a fantastic afro several times the size of her head, adorned with green blooms and hovering toy planets. Finn swore he saw Megs tip his hat to the image before maneuvering into a back alley.

“Hey, slow down.” Finn panted, attention pulled in two directions by steadying Rose, who had nearly tripped on the patchy ground.

Megs gave a low growl in response; he’d located a door with an old fashion iron handle and rattled it forcibly. “I’ll remind you that you needn’t have come…”

Finn set his jaw. “Yea, no. We don’t leave teammates behind.”

Megs looked to have something to say to that, but Rose piped in and cut him off. “Why are you so obsessed with this singer anyways?” she looked over her shoulder at the glow of the projection.

Finn chewed his lower lip. While he might not have the most robust understanding of casual social settings and human behaviour, he knew enough about men. Particularly older ones. And there was the way Megs seemed awful sweet to Rose...

“Do you… like her?”

Megs whirled around with a flourish of his coat. His face was savage at first, but quickly dropped into something more sardonic.

“Well, she’s far too young. And not a man. So no, Finn. It’s not that sort of interest.”

Rose’s cheeks lit up, and Finn could only mumble, “O-Oh. Okay.”

“I have a very narrow striking range, Finn. They absolutely must be a gentle intellectual, but with enough raw strength to kick my ass and not be reserved about it.”

“Gotcha.”

“It’s terribly frustrating. I haven’t been on a recreational social outing, what I believe you’d call a _date_ , in years.”

“Un huh…”

Sensing his distress, Rose cut in, saving Finn as she often did. “So, if we ever find a brainy senior citizen, who could lay out a bantha with one hand… we send him your way, yea?”

“Please do.”

“Mmm…” Rose slid up behind Finn to hug him around the middle, rocking back and forth. “I’m more into guys like this.”

He could feel her smiling face pressed just below his shoulder blades. It wasn’t really the time or place, but Finn couldn’t help turning around and playfully flexed his arms.

“Oh, do you now? You like all this?”

Rose giggled and reached up to theatrically squeeze at his muscles, bulging under the fabric of the jacket while Finn wrapped his other arm around her waist. “Oooh, yes. My Resistance hero!”

Megs sighed noisily, but Finn felt no guilt whatsoever.

Their flirtation carried on for a few moments, only ending when Finn realized he hadn’t heard Megs’ clashing with the door for a hot minute. Rose peaked out under Finn’s arm and exclaimed in distress, making him turn too.

Megs had vanished.

But no sooner were the pair stepping forward to investigate his disappearance then the iron door swung open again, banging loudly on the brick wall. Megs’ large silhouette filled the doorway for a moment, then stepped out, spurred heels jangling.

“You coming?” he called gruffly, then turned around just as swiftly as he’d arrived, vanishing back into a dark hallway.

Finn’s hands dropped away from Rose as he waved a pointer finger around in bewilderment. “How… How did you..?”

But Megs had already moved out of earshot, or at the very least, he didn’t slow down to respond. Meeting each other’s eyes to share in a shrug, Finn and Rose rushed to follow the old man into the back entrance of the Lunar Lounge.

***

They moved quickly into the heart of the club. Dim, unheated halls of concrete with exposed vents gave way to warm, red wallpaper painted with extravagant black floral patterns topped intermittently with catalytic lamps. Megs led the trio with the confident steps of a man who absolutely belonged there, despite everything about his wardrobe. Fortunately, they encountered few people, mostly waitstaff clad in crisp black and white, and bustling service droids; all of whom seemed too occupied with their tasks to bother with them.

They eventually came out into a balcony, wrapping around and offering a full view of the club floor: a crescent shaped room of rich blacks and red velvet furniture. The generous stage filled half the space above a dance floor area, sparsely populated now with vaguely drunk looking, swaying dancers. They seemed to be half listening to a three-headed droid that was crooning a tinny tune, harmonizing with itself.

Megs finally came to a stop behind a carved pillar, leaning out over the railing a bit too far for comfort and scanning the crowd.

An impossibly long mechanical hook inched out from behind the red stage curtains and seized the multi-headed droid around the waist, drawing it back sharply into the rippling fabric and out of sight. Some seated club patrons cheered or breathed a sigh of relief. At least one of the wobbling drunks on the dance floor gave a groan of disappointment and waved a sloshing glass.

The lights dimmed and a deep, husky male voice rose over the general din of the crowd. “And now, our newest and brightest bloom, exclusively at the Lunar Lounge… The Chartreuse Chanteuse!”

The curtains pulled back in a flourish as band rolled out from either side of the stage, blasting warmly on brass instruments, supported by a backing of strings. A mobile staircase came sliding out between them, framed by the musicians’ bench, and spotlights twirled to focus on the singer, gliding down the steps.

_“Oh yes! I’m… The great pretender!”_

The Chartreuse Chanteuse was a beautiful, stately looking woman in a flowing green gown embellished with glittering leaves and flowers that complimented the matched decorations in her magnificent afro. Her lovely, dark skin gleamed like mahogany under the stage lights and her red lipped mouth was wide as her voice rang through the hall.

_“Pretending I'm doing well...”_

Megs went stiff at Finn’s side and hissed a breath between his teeth.

“That’s her…”

Rose was enamored by the performance, but Finn kept his gaze squarely on Megs’ scarred face. His red eyes were very wide; there was both a warmth and a panic to them Finn hadn’t seen before.

“Her?”

Megs pushed off from the balcony, “A dear friend and playmate of my grandson’s.”

Finn blinked, “I thought your grandson was just a little kid.”

_“I seem to be what I'm not… you see! I'm wearing my heart like a crown.”_

“They are…” Megs nodded slowly and didn't offer further explanation. The wide brim of his hat bobbed. He then moved to tap lightly on Rose’s arm while motioning with his head down the hall. “Let’s go see her.”

“Go see her?” Finn and Rose whispered in unison, following him down into another hall. The performance continuing, loud and bombastic below.

“Indeed. It appears she requires a rescue as well.”

_“Pretending that you're still around…”_

***

The trio stole deeper into the club’s backrooms, blessedly empty due to the focus being on the main hall. They eventually found themselves in a wing, decorated with carved statues, and signed paintings of past acts, with several narrow doors marked with name plates.

The dressing rooms.

Megs squinted at the title cards, walking slowly down the hall, and scanning them as though waiting for one to jump out.

At his maddening slow pace, Rose made a quick sprint past him, het boots making muffled thumps on the carpeting. She came to a halt by the last door and jabbed a thumb at it.

“This one says _Chartreuse Chanteuse_ ,” she noted.

“Excellent,” Megs grumbled, jogging up to her, Finn at his side. “Well done.”

Rose's pursed her lips, “Can you... not read Basic, or...?”

Rose’s inquiry was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. Finn grabbed at his companions’ shoulders and quickly drew them behind the nearest piece of statuary, a carved relief of a shapely woman with no lower arms or a head. Megs grunted at the treatment, but allowed himself to be pulled. The much sought-after singer was approaching, still beautiful and elegant in green, but her lovely face was twisted in discomfort and anxiety. No doubt due to being boxed in by two large human guards, clad in black suits and holding rifles. One had a grip to her upper arm, and as they came closer, it was apparent that his hold was uncomfortably tight from the way her breathing hissed as he pulled on her.

Rose growled quietly.

The guards released the Chanteuse upon reaching her dressing room door, unlocking it with a key card before moving to push her in.

“I can walk on my own, thank you!” she narrowly slipped past their large hands, clenching her fists at her side and as she moved away from them into the brightness of her room.

“Apologies, ma’am.” Replied the guard evenly, not showcasing an inch of emotion. “You’ve got another show in thirty, please be ready.”

The door slid shut with a mechanical hiss and the key card was pocketed.

The two men then took positions at either side of the doorway, weapons in hand and posture stiff. Two predatory beasts guarding a treasure.

Megs whispered something to Finn, possibly instructions, but the young man didn’t listen. He and Rose were already silently moving as one, out of the shadows and onto the guards in an instant. With practiced grabs, and a little assistance from Rose’s electro-stun prod, the two men were knocked out in groaning dark heaps with the Resistance operatives standing triumphantly above them.

Megs stepped out, seeming at a rare loss for words, “Oh… V-very good. Yes.” He nudged at one of the fallen foes with his boot. “Outstanding technique.”

“Well, I never like to see a creep who treats a woman rough go unbeaten,” Rose replied through gritted teeth. She lifted and pulled at one of the slack bodies to grab the key card.

While she did, Megs was already at the door, knocking on it with two knuckles, almost casually.

“What are you-“ Finn hissed.

“Who is it?” The singer’s voice floated through the air. It was delicate yet guarded, and it cut off Finn’s protest immediately.

“I have a…” Megs paused, searching for the right phrase. “… hmmm... flower delivery here.”

“Oh, how lovely!” The voice was brighter now, bubbly even. “Well, just leave it with the… nice men… by my door here and I’m sure they’ll-”

“I don’t have anything for the Chartreuse Chanteuse…” Megs cut in. “The name on the label is _Francine Greene_ …”

Rose couldn’t stand up fast enough, as they were bombarded by the sound of rapid thumping fists on the other side of the door. The singer was joyous and frantic, presumably calling out to her handlers.

“Let him in! _Please_ let him in!”

The door came open with a whoosh and metallic clink. Megs moved past Finn and Rose to fill the frame with the confidence of a battlefield general. He strode into the dressing room, colliding with the green and brown blur that was the Chartreuse Chanteuse.

“Mega-“ she cried in delight, her voice regaining the energy and vibrancy they’d heard back on stage. Megs’ large arms swept up and he leaned in to whisper something very briefly before holding her gently by the shoulders at arm’s length. It all happened so fast Finn couldn’t be sure.

“Megs?” she queried with a pronounced, almost sarcastic twang. She raised an elegant eyebrow. “Well… alright.”

As Finn and Rose came in behind their companion, the singer drew in close to her new, burly protector and made a noise of distress.

“It’s okay. It’s okay! We’re with him.” Finn stammered quickly, nodding to Megs.

Rose was less reserved, and came up beside the pair, standing a few heads shorter than the Chartreuse Chanteuse, cheeks flushed. “Wow… you were amazing on stage!”

At this, all pretense of fear dropped away from The Chanteuse. Her smile grew big and theatrical, and she held a gloved hand out. It was clearly an act, but one born out of an understanding of performing for the applause offstage and on.

“Oh my...! Well thank you. Always delighted to meet a fan.”

“Francine!” Megs growled sharply, cutting her off. “I don’t think we have time for that.” He waved a hand in front of her auspicious self. “Or this.”

The uncertainly came back into her eyes, she took a few steps back and the fantastic projection of confidence dropped away like pulling off a costume. Her knees were bent inward, almost childlike. It was strange and unnerving to see such rapid emotional changes from a grown woman. Particularly one so tall and beautiful. She glanced pointedly back and forth between Finn, Rose, and Megs.

Megs’ voice was soft this time. “It’s alright. I trust them.”

Finn was almost too busy glowing under Megs’ praise to process what happened next.

The Chartreuse Chanteuse raised a hand to her large, star shaped gold earrings and mumbled something barely perceptible; “Show’s over, Synergy.”

In a flash of light and scanlines, as if from a holo-call, the singer’s enchanting form fell away; blinked out of existence. What stood in her place was a young girl. Dark curly hair styled into large puffs on the side of her head absent of ornate embellishments. The stately gown swapped for a simple peach coloured dress, pale leggings, and light blue jacket. Despite her great change in size and lavishness, there was a confidence held by the singer that still shone through in this child. She had a slim build and a bright, intelligent look in her eyes.

Megs crossed his arms over his chest, smiling gently at her, as though adult women turning into children was a common occurrence. He glanced at Finn and Rose, noting their open-mouthed surprise and rumbled an explanation. “Francine Greene. As I said, a very dear friend to my very dear grandson.”

“I told you, it’s _Frankie_!” the girl replied, hands on her hips. She then turned to the Resistance operatives and flicked at her earrings. “Synergy system. Projects hard-light avatars. A joint development between Dr. Emmet Benton at the Starlight Foundation, me, my daddy, and technology generously donated from Cyber-“ she paused and instead elected to gesture to Megs. “From _his_ home planet.”

“Francine Greene is an invaluable expert in scientific research and development in our community.” Megs noted, sounding not so much proud but rather as though he was stating a blunt fact.

Blushing, Frankie scuffed the toe of one of her shoes into the carpet. “Aw, my daddy’s the island’s scientist. You know that.”

“Your experiments have proven to be statistically less explosive.”

The girl laughed.

Finn and Rose just stared and blinked.

“The more I find out about your island, the weirder it gets…” Finn mumbled.

Megs half smiled and nodded at Frankie. “Are you well?”

Frankie blinked, seeming off kilter from now his clipped inquiry, but recovered. “Oh yea, living the life of a glamourous club singer has its ups.” She waved a hand towards the doorway, “So long as you’re not dealing with those goons they’ve got guarding me here. Thanks for giving them some down time, by the way.”

Finn heard Rose gnash her teeth, and it was the kind of gnashing she did when pleased. “No problem.”

Megs exhaled sharply but didn’t move towards the girl. “How did you get here?”

Frankie made a clucking noise with her tongue, “Trex and I were looking for Cody and you. I ended up on this planet. I used Synergy to give me an adult look. I thought that would be safer…” she drew one hand over her opposite upper arm and rubbed it.

“I got a job singing right away… I thought it would be a good way to look for you guys. But even with a grown-up’s body, they didn’t always treat me nicely. Shove me onstage, shove me off… It’s been scary, but I didn’t know where to go…”

At her distress, Finn felt himself reaching out unconsciously, particularly when Megs still wasn’t moving. _How could he let a little girl say those things without responding?_ But Frankie’s sadness dropped away suddenly as she bounced up on the balls of her feet, trying to meet Megs’ eyes.

“But anyways, where’s Cody? He’s with you, right?”

A slow, dour shake of Megs’ head. Frankie’s face fell and she shrunk back, looking lost.

“Oh…”

“But listen!” Finn interrupted, jumping forward. He bent slightly to get on her level, hands over his knees. He didn’t have much experience as an adult talking with kids, certainly not under this sort of context. He hoped this body language was appropriate. “We’re with the Resistance, we’re helping Megs here find Cody. And we already found you, so that’s an unexpected plus right there. We’re ahead!”

Frankie looked at him with round, brown eyes. Perhaps she was a little taken aback by his forwardness.

“Oh, sorry!” he stuck a hand out, causing his balance to wobble. “I’m Finn!” he tried to gesture over his shoulder, the motion making nearly tumble over. “And this is Rose!”

Frankie and Rose gave simultaneous giggles at his energy.

Megs just rumbled: “What’s an _unexpected plus_ is that Trex is here.”

Finn popped up to standing. “Oh yea, who’s Trex?”

“Our ride out of here.” Megs glanced back at Frankie. “Are you ready to go?”

“Oh yea.” Frankie dashed over to a vanity, rimmed by circles of white light, and snatched up a small jewelry box. It jangled as she clasped it shut. “Extra Synergy earrings. Never know when you’ll need a pair.”

Megs murmured under his breath, there was an odd look in his eyes. "Indeed... Wasn't a pair stolen from your father's lab recently?"

Frankie didn’t appear to be listening, too occupied with giving her dressing room a visual sweep. It was overflowing with ornate bouquets, racks of gowns, a luxurious looking lounging couch, and shelves of cosmetics and perfumes.

The girl shrugged. “Eh, nothing worth taking.” She rattled her jewelry box for emphasis.

Megs followed up behind the group. He was mumbling something about claw marks, but soon quieted; realizing that Frankie wasn’t paying any attention and seeming content to leave it at that.

***

The group, now a proper quartet, slipped away from the dressing room hall and down into a cool basement area below the thrum of the footsteps & music. A far cry from the glory of the club, it was a dim place, lit only by thin strips of dusty maintenance lights. The area was evidentially used for storage, as large bolts of fabric lay in careless piles alongside old curtain rods and smashed in bits of décor. A sullen place where the unused or unneeded went.

As they walked along the cold floor, Finn began to hear a noise; deep and bellowing that repeated with regular frequency.

There was something _breathing_ down here.

“Trex! Here boy!”

Before he could stop her, Frankie broke ahead from the group. She ran down a particularly dark corner, directly towards the heavying sound. Her shoes kicked up small clouds of soot.

“They made me keep him down here, but he gets to come up sometimes if I can work him into an act.”

She gestured widely above her head towards a black mass moving out of the shadows. Great, thumping steps shook the basement as it moved closer. Finn came to a stop, putting a hand on Rose’s shoulder.

It was some sort of massive, terrible lizard walking upright on powerful legs and tridactyl, clawed feet. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t an entirely biological entity. Perhaps it had at one point been a living thing, but now it was so heavily modified with cybernetic parts as to appear half robotic. A metal right hand capped one of its short arms and an exposed, silver bit of rib showed through a gap in its chest. The body was grey, splotched with patches of green on its back and head. Large jaws opened to reveal shiny, white fangs, some longer than Finn’s arm. A thick, salivating tongue dropped out of that frightful maw and…

…it panted like a dog.

Its tongue lolled, pink and shiny with moisture, bobbing up and down alongside quick breaths. Frankie stood before it, grinning with delight. The creature shoved a massive snout down to her chest. Its long tail waved back and forth, kicking up further billows of dust.

“Trex waited! Trex is good boy!” it had a deep, booming voice that echoed from somewhere deep within its enormous body.

“This is Trex!” Frankie declared, as though introducing the family pet. She reached up to offer a few strokes between its snuffling nostrils. “Daddy made him for me.”

Trex fixed a round, blue eye on Finn and Rose and stomped forward.

“New friends!” The beast declared loudly, lathering the pair in a huge lick before they could protest.

“Urrgghhh!” Finn moaned, wiping himself clear. Rose just laughed.

Trex shifted to look over at Megs but didn’t make any move to give the old man a tongue lashing. Rather, the robotic lizard flopped heavily to one side, showcasing its pale-yellow belly. A playful demonstration of submission. Its tiny front legs slowly groping the air like a cat. Frankie used the lowered posture of her pet as an opportunity to clamber onto the back of its head.

Megs followed suit.

She glanced down at Finn and Rose. “Hey, how are you guys with riding big animals?”

***

Frankie claimed to want to an easy exit, but riding a thundering bipedal monstrosity could never produce such a result, regardless of his kind temperament. Fleeing out the storeroom and through a warehouse door into the alley did cause more than a bit of a stir. Still, Trex cleared the club guardsmen with a single, massive stride, breaking into the hazy lights of downtown. Though initially frozen by the bright chaos of the city, the “tyrannosaurus” (as Frankie had called him), quickly found his nerve and started off into a gallop down the streets. His mistress clung to the back of his skull, urging him on via whispers in his earholes. Megs supported her with a large arm behind her, the other pressed down on his broad brimmed hat. The old man seemed to be holding himself in place through sheer leg strength alone. He looked quite the sight, a rancher riding on a lizard the size of a fighter craft.

Speeders blared their horns and swerved to get out of Trex’s path. Crowds of people from the sidewalks gasped and pointed at the spectacle. Windows from buildings shook in their panes from the force of their speed. Anything not bolted down was swift to topple from the ongoing quaking.

“Please clear a path! I am very fast!” Trex bellowed as he ran, amiable as ever.

He continued at an exhilarating pace. At one point, slowing and crouching, only to throw himself over a low blockade of buildings in a powerful leap. Finn felt himself nearly fully rise off the creature’s neck, hovering briefly in the air before coming back down. His hands fumbled to grip the synthetic scales. Robotic or not, Finn could feel the complex movement of muscles and billowing breath within Trex’s body. He was torn between the awe he felt towards the lizard, the exhilaration of their escape, and raw terror at how close he was to falling to his death.

“We’ve got to stop doing this!” Finn yelped, bearing down on the beast’s neck.

“Nah!” Rose called back, her eyes watering from the rush of air, but full of delight. “This is my favourite date activity.”

Nearing city limits, a pair of Synergy earrings came loose from Frankie’s jewelry box. Unnoticed and unremarked upon by the team. They fell to earth, glittering like falling stars, and plopping to rest in the soil.

***

Back on their freshly refueled transport, Rose quietly bemoaned the extra weight as they none too delicately shoved Trex into the storage space, bumping up against Megs’ truck. Surprisingly, the might lizard accepted the close quarters with a vehicle gladly, nuzzling his snout into its windows and thumping his tail against the floor.

Rose had them in air and out into the stars within minutes. Megs quickly following her into the cockpit, with Frankie tailing behind. The girl marveled at the workings of the ship, gaping in awe, and bending down to inspect a panel.

“This is amazing!” she exclaimed, looking up to Megs with bright eyes. “I’m on an actual spaceship!”

Megs nodded down at her, making motions to go sit, but Frankie continued. Her voice sounding a little slower.

“I’m on… a spaceship. Oh man… It just hit me.” She stood and wrapped her arms around his thin torso. “This is real. I’m… I’m really far from home, aren’t I?”

She turned to Megs, her eyes glassy and her lower lip trembling. Finn rose from the co-pilot’s chair slowly.

Megs was down on one knee before the girl, head snapping left and right to look rapidly over her. “What it is? Are you injured?”

Frankie shook her head a little too fast. Her puffs of hair lightly slapping at her upper cheeks. “N-no, I’m fine… I just…” her voice was shaking and cracking, “I wanna go home. I want my daddy. Mom… Cece. I wanna see Cody…”

She looked up into Megs’ eyes, tears streaming down her face as she tried in vain to hold them back. “Please, can’t you give them to me?”

Megs stood up straight as though suddenly burned. His scarred lips were set downward and he looked a mix between flummoxed and enraged. “I… I’m sorry. But I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that, Francine…”

Frankie pressed the heel of her hands over one eye while her shoulders rose and fell. She waved her free hand slightly, as though brushing him off. “I… I know. I just…” her voice cut out as sobs overtook it.

Rose made a noise of empathetic pain and looked over at the girl, occupied though she was with the ship’s controls.

Megs spine seemed frozen. His hands flexed lightly at his side impotently.

“Dude!” Finn whispered, gesturing as small as he could towards the tiny, weeping figure. “You gotta… Hug her… Or something!”

The old man’s massive eyebrows went up and he practically squawked, but then he looked back down at Frankie and exhaled.

His head came back to Finn, looking stricken. A far cry from the cold confidence this man usually bathed within. “Very well, but…” his voice was soft and pleading. “Can you do it with me?”

Finn paused, breath caught in his throat, but slowly nodded. He lowered himself on both knees, motioning for Megs to follow. The former storm trooper wrapped his arms gently around Frankie’s shoulders, giving her an opportunity to bow out of this if she desired.

She didn’t.

In fact, the girl threw herself against Finn’s chest, wailing loudly. Megs sunk down, patting lighting at her back, and leaning into Finn as well.

Rose, apparently having set the ship to auto-pilot, jumped up and entered the group with enough force to almost knock Finn onto his backside.

Frankie sniffled, distracted by the newcomer. “Thanks guys…”

They stayed like that for several minutes, Frankie’s quiet sobs and the soft sounds of hands stroking over fabric the only noise in the cockpit.

Megs voice whispered near Finn’s ear. “Thank you Finn. I don’t…” a rough sigh, “I don’t do this. Ever. It’s what I rely on Cody for.”

Frankie’s voice murmured from within the embrace, still thick with tears. “You certainly do.”

Finn looked into the scars and wrinkles of Meg’s face. His silver eyebrows were drawn together. He looked very worn and… not sad per say. Regretful, maybe?

Finn could understand. Living nearly your whole life one way, wanting desperately to connect with people but not knowing how when asked. But Finn could learn; he _had_ been learning. Not everyone had the flexible mind of young man, or patient friends willing to teach.

“It’s okay, man.” Finn whispered back, reaching up to clasp Megs on the shoulder. “That’s why I’m here.”

***

As usual, Kamino was a land of water and fury.

Kylo Ren, flanked by hist Knights, landed on the half-flooded platform of a cloning facilities. A theoretically simple docking was complicated by the persistently lashing rain and electrical storms splitting the night sky. The outpost, comprised of massive durasteel disks suspended on narrow stilts, was both a marvel of engineering and the only speck of civilization to be seen for miles on the choppy waterscape. The metal was scoured by decades of wear, rust and barnacles growing in equal measure. No lights shone from the buildings, and the only sound was the rumbling of the storm. It appeared his generals had spoken true, and that this place was well and truly abandoned.

And yet, perhaps not so.

Within seconds of exiting their TIEs, the groups’ dark clothing was soaked to their skin. The air was thick with fog and visibility around them poor. Sopping moisture weighed down Kylo’s cape to the extent it practically dragged behind him, but he made no indication of discomfort.

Massive waves crashed against the structure, sending further sprays of water up over them. The strength of the ocean made the facility groan and lean precariously under their feet. Through the Force, Kylo could sense the rich tapestry of life swimming within the great sea. Thousands upon thousands of creatures. A contrast to the surface, which was nearly complete devoid of life signatures with the exception of this one, lonely structure.

Kylo strode forward through a door that obediently slid aside at his touch. Though faint and strange, there was something here, and it called it him. He didn’t bother to signal or command the Knights to follow him, he was confident of their dutiful pursuit. Lights, evidentially waiting for a visitor, flickered slowly, yet obediently, to life.

They came into a great, white room that almost put to mind Kylo’s personal chambers. Immaculate alabaster from floor to ceiling, the reactivated lighting almost painfully bright, and clinically sanitized so that not a speck of imperfection was permitted. Their collective footsteps echoed as they marched into the lab, water dripping from their clothing. The space was massive, with tall, rounded ceiling. It was all clearly meant to house a robust cloning laboratory, but it was devoid of any machinery now; utterly hollow and gutted. Whatever was here had long since been removed, piece by piece, instrument by instrument and then painstakingly cleansed to the results seen before them.

But they were not alone.

No graceful, towering Kaminoan appeared before them. Instead, it was a group of small figures hunched over and clad in black, moving in with quick steps. Tiny black shadows scurrying like vermin across the pristine floor. It was impossible to know what they were specifically, human or otherwise, due to the bandages that swaddled their faces and limbs. There was something familiar about them, their hum, or perhaps their growl within the Force. They had the scent of the Sith about them, yet they were no Force users. But their hearts were consumed with reverence for the Dark Side.

Cultists then. _But why were they here, creeping in the dark until now?_

One of the robbed figures broke ahead of the group and stepped before Kylo, who reflexively reached for his weapon and lit it in warning. It bathed the white floor in red. Despite their master’s action, the Knights made no motion to intervene.

The bent cultist merely held something up in withered hands.

“You have arrived.” Its voice was thin and crackling, like a rat’s feet running over glass. It held the offering upward to Kylo’s gloved hand. “This is to be presented to you.”

A small, pyramidal object was pressed into his palm. It fit there as though it had been fashioned strictly to be held by Kylo Ren and no other. Despite its small size, it dragged his arm down with weight he could feel up to his shoulder. Not to mention the heat radiating from it. Crimson light pulsed from within to illuminate the deep-gray resin of its sides. He looked down upon it, through his mask beneath his cowl.

It seemed he had been awarded another treasure.

A Sith holocron.

The gnarled fingers of the cultist, trembling with arthritis or some other malady, drew away swiftly. “Holocrons contain great knowledge.” The figure whispered, the others behind him rustled their robes as they came closer. “But… it must be unlocked.”

Kylo’s masked head cut away from the pyramid and to the speaker. Before he could demand answers, the black-clad masses began chanting together, an eerie chorus of voices.

_“It can be unlocked with a dagger. You’ll find it within the sands of Pasaana.”_

_“Pasaana…”_

_“Pasaana….”_

The planet’s name reverberated off the pristine, white walls. Kylo Ren’s gaze cast over the bizarre and disquieting display. Though his mask betrayed no emotion, his insides were not immune to the chaos seeping through the Force at this moment.

The hunched creature closest to Kylo brayed over the masses and spoke singularly. “Do this, and you will finally discover the answers you seek. Your destiny within all this.”

Its head rolled back, and its voice joined back with its brethren. Their cries raising in volume, all together as one.

_“They day of victory is at hand. The day of revenge. The day of the Sith.”_

Everything was still for a moment as their chanting fell away. Then a sharp _crack_ that shook the building. This was followed by several soft thuds as their bodies slumped to the ground in dark masses, cold and dead.

Kylo stood frozen, Knights behind him, all standing tall before the patchwork field of corpses. A cemetery of black lumps functioning as recently turned soil in a pearly field. Their life signatures had all snuffed out simultaneously. Whether by their own will or the work of an unseen hand, he knew not.

He looked away from the horror and down to the holocron. It felt about as different from the warmth and gentleness of the spark as could be imagined. All of this grisly pomp and circumstance for such a small thing. Still… it warranted further examination as well.

He privately mused that it was only fitting that Kylo Ren, heir to Vader’s legacy, should be presented with such an object in such a way. Rey could… _She_ could steal a lightsaber, but she couldn’t touch this. This wasn’t for her. The thought ought to have made him satisfied, but it only produced a nausea and ache deep in the pit of his guts.

He was reminded of when Rey had come to him on the Supremacy, crammed inelegantly into an escape pod. Yet, looking so beautiful, emerging in a cloud of vapor with so much love and hope in her eyes. How he’d ruined all that.

He wondered, as he often did, how things might have been different. If he’d ran his saber through the soldiers and ran away with her right then and there. Or if he’d refused to restrain her, kept her sealed safely in the pod, like a precious jewel, and hid her away into his private quarters like he did with the spark.

But… no. He could never dream of keeping her contained in that way.

The holocron thrummed in his hands. _Focus… he must keep his thoughts on this now._

In short order, Kylo Ren and the Knights of Ren made to leave Kamino. Concerns of army recruitment all but forgotten.

***

Cogman prided himself on finding the fun in anything, even if the ‘fun’ had to do with the particular color of flame engulfing one of Cybertron’s civic blocks. Or hearing Nickel rip into someone verbally (or otherwise). Or witnessing the enemy’s army fleeing in abject terror.

All good sport to be sure.

But he was pleased to internally conclude that serving aboard the Axalon was far and away the most _raw fun_ he’d had in centuries. Despite, or perhaps because, of the domesticity and the relative lack of violence.

Even in close company with masses of biological human children and their baffling needs for food and sleep, he couldn’t help but delight in their differences, bravery, and ability. Cogman was big enough to admit he didn’t know nearly enough about the species, but by Solus was he game to try. Every hour was a source of excitement and adventure!

In only a few short days, they had made good on his proposal to shanghai First Order vessels carting youth about the stars, thus adding more to their ranks. It was a simple matter of tracking down quarry, using the Axalon’s own databanks of flight routes, and bait the child catchers into attempting to reel them in. Shadow Striker was beyond enthusiastic to do a little space jump into a waiting docking bay, bearing down upon the poor fools and sending the armored adults fleeing in terror via ships or escape pods. Cautious though the children were around her initially, the fact that they’d liberated two ships that followed the Axalon now in a mini-fleet of their own, cemented the massive Decepticon warrior in the human crew’s good graces.

Shadow Striker couldn’t really move freely about the ship in the off time, which was fine given that her fractured body often needed rest, repairs, and maintenance, usually from a none-too-patient Nickel. Surprisingly, Shadow Striker had found herself approached by several of the children, many of whom bore eyepatches, injuries, and prosthetic limbs of varying quality. Though shy and fearful initially of her biting voice and sheer size, Cogman had on more than one occasion seen her surrounded by these children. They spoke animatedly and openly as they shared life stories and compared literal battle scars.

Cody was a bright and implacable leader, who had taken charge amongst a small group of other children around his age; the elders of the pack. They had set about coordinating chores, tasks, and maintenance for the other kids to take part in. Cody had noted his own experience in working within a large family unit with complex, daily responsibilities and the need to “respect the chore wheel”, in his own words. Thus, there was always a group of kids scurrying about, prepping the kitchen, delivering meals, running checks on the ship’s system, or performing cleaning duties.

But, with work so well divided, there was ample time for recreation, inventive games and sports played in the larger rooms. Evenings were regularly spent in a lounge, listening to the children share stories from their cultures and planets. Despite the extreme straights they found themselves in, laughter and chatter was frequent, and strong friendships were being forged. Another concept Cody has planted in Cogman’s mind; the importance of a work-life balance, even in situations such as this.

It was for this reason that Nickel and Cogman were scouring a hallway of the Axalon, dim and simple with little purpose save to connect areas, far from the core centers of interest within the ship. Cody hadn’t materialized for a currently ongoing holo screening in the mess hall with the others.

Unusual of him.

They found the boy, apparently experiencing an episode of distress, tucked away in a dark corner between two sections of non-descript wall. His posture was curled inward. Servo lay at his master’s feet, looking equally depressed, though his short tail bobbed upon Nickel & Cogman’s approach.

Cody’s face was discolored with red blotches, and clear fluid was leaking from his eyes.

“Oh!” They had taken him by surprise, and Cody hastily wiped a hand over his face and inhaled roughly. His breathing seemed congested. “H-hey guys…”

“I say, young master!” Cogman bent down on one knee and placed a cool hand on the boy’s forehead. “Are you quite well?”

“I’m fine!” Cody insisted. His voice had an uncomfortable squeak to it. He forced his mouth into smile that didn’t meet his watery eyes. “Sorry. I’m late for something, aren’t I?”

He moved to push off from the wall and Cogman’s hand, but Nickel scooted forward to bar their path. She reached for his face and felt at an arm.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was firm, a doctor’s inquiry mixed with genuine concern. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

Cody brushed their probing hands aside and gave a small laugh that sounded terribly forced, “Really guys, I’m fine…” as he was speaking. His face curled in on itself and more liquid seeped from his eyes. “No,” he said after a moment. “I’m not fine.”

Nickel came in closer as Cody’s shoulder’s trembled and any further words were quashed by hiccupping sobs. Servo whined up at him.

Ah, crying. the boy was crying. Cogman could identify that much now. Realizing this made his Spark twist in ways it didn’t usually. It was unsettling to see Cody, always so full of life and energy, changed as though by unnatural magic into this gasping, sad thing that hid away in the dark. 

“S-sorry…” Cody eventually mumbled. He drew his arm over his face to bury his eyes in his jacket’s elbow. “I just… “ He trailed off, then started again. “This has been so great. It’s noble! We saved all these kids, and we’re all having fun together. But I really miss my family. My dad, my brothers and sister… Frankie…”

His cries increased in frequency and he sunk his face further as though attempting to bury them.

“I wanna go home…”

Nickel looked balefully up at Cogman, who cleared his throat.

“Perfectly understandable, young sir. This is a challenging situation you find yourself in and-”

Cody let out another sharp cry that was possibly a self-depreciating laugh. His arm dropped to his side, revealing glassy, bloodshot eyes. “Other kids on this ship, on all the ships, have had it way worse than me.”

Nickel sprang forward and wrapped her stumpy arms around the boy’s torso with enough speed and force that Cody let out a gasp. She reached up and patted at his shoulders.

“That may be true. But you’re allowed to feel upset, Cody. You can feel however you want.” Her voice was soft, almost gentle. Cogman hadn’t heard her use such a tone in years.

Cody was frozen for a few seconds, sniffing from his nose, before slowly reaching his hands up to cling to her round form.

Cogman sunk down to both knees and drew both of them into an embrace. Servo, still whining pitifully tried to sniff his way between to lap at Cody’s face.

“Indeed.” Cogman said quickly. “Stiff upper lip? Bah! However you wish to feel, we’ll be right there for you.”

Cody was very quiet and still for a few more moments, but they eventually felt his rib cage quaking and a flood gate of louder sobs shook out of him. Fat tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. Nickel continued to hold him without protest, ever brushing her hands gently over his blonde mop of hair and humming softly in comfort.

Cogman kept them locked tightly in his arms, pulling at the pair gently to bear their weight against his chest. Servo sat on his haunches and leaned in too. It was fine, Cogman could take the weight. At that moment, he was prepared to take on the entire galaxy if it meant protecting his spouse and this child.

His family.

Cody’s crying was the only sound in the hall, or at the very least, it drowned out Cogman’s firm whisper. “I’ll see you safely back to Megatron, Cody. And back home. I won’t let anything happen to either of you. Not ever.” He leaned in to press his forehead to Cody’s hair.

“I swear it.”

***

Windblade circled through the clouds of pollution just outside the city on Arbiflux. She had no understanding or interest in the planet’s name, however. What called to her was the faint signal of Cybertronian technology.

She changed from jet to robot mode. No one was around to witness this towering, winged giant. Her red heels touched into the dirt and low grass of the plains, scanning for that whisper of familiarity. Though barely perceptible to a human eye, her mechanical optics caught sight of the tiny earrings instantly. She bent to retrieve them. Slim as her fingers were, she could barely pick them up.

She looked down on the glittering objects. Odd pieces of tech of unknown origin for an unknown purpose.

It wasn’t the Spark of Optimus Prime. That was a grave disappointment. But, she reasoned, they may prove useful in her quest.

Her palm closed ever so gently.

It was... comforting to hold something that even remotely reminded her of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter's going to be a little shorter but hopefully will be out faster. We're gearing up for a reunion soon...  
> But until then, let me know what you think.


	5. His Master's Voice

“What have you been doing to the ship?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault she can’t handle my flying!”

“Don’t talk about Han’s _…_ Don’t talk about it that way…”

Rey was elbow deep in an access panel within the Falcon’s cockpit, grease stains streaking across her lower arms. A thin layer of sweat was collecting on her hair line, a byproduct from the precision of her task, the heat radiating from the sparking wires at her fingertips, and from Poe’s plays at self defense.

Wielder of a lightsaber and true Jedi hopeful be she may, Rey was also still the best mechanic on this vessel. Or at least, the only one in possession of small, thin hands that could effectively make headway into the layers of mess that served as the Falcon’s systems. Chewie lacked the dexterity, or the patience, for this type of work. Plus, the wookie had been long overdue for a break, and was now peacefully napping in the lounge. Rey didn’t mind; working independently on this ship was its own reward.

Though often dismissed as ‘junk’ by the untrained eye, it was Rey's opinion that the Falcon ought to be considered a work of art for how it maintained a delicate internal balance of parts and construction accumulated over several decades of operation. This was a storied, powerful entity that had flown free through so much chaos in the galaxy. It required an understanding, firm, yet empathetic touch to unveil the Falcon’s true potential.

Poe’s flying was… not that.

Rey hissed a curse as a mini-welder slipped from her grasp and clattered away. She was fighting a losing battle with this section of wiring. Honestly, this entire subsystem had been made nearly redundant by several modifications installed as recently as the Rebellion finding sanctuary on Ajan Kloss. She could abandon her task right here and the Falcon could return home just fine. It was the sensible option, really. There were a million and one other important things to occupy her time, even with her saber now complete. There were Jedi texts to analyze, training to be done with her weapon, forms to practice, communicating with the Force. Not to mention BB-8 could probably use a shift change after being left alone with Knock Out for several hours.

But to let this ship… Han Solo’s ship… suffer from rough treatment while she was onboard and aware of it? No, that was something she couldn’t allow.

It was all she had left.

Poe, still talking, pulled Rey from her thoughts. “If we had the time, and the credits, I’d honestly love to get under this bad girl’s hood and _really_ get her flying, know what I mean?”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Rey replied, a little too quickly and a little too hotly.

Whether by choice or by simple ignorance, Poe didn’t pick up on her aggression and swept off her response with a jovial laugh, leaning back in the captain’s chair.

When another spark flared high enough to burn part of Rey’s thumb, she decided enough was enough and slammed the panel closed. With a frustrated groan, She leaned against the wall heavily while sucking lightly at the hot patch of skin.

Poe’s laughter petered off as he watched her, though not out of concern for her injury. That would have been unnecessary anyways, it was so minor.

This was something else. His eyes were hazy and downcast, the firm lines of his well-formed face sagged with whispers of anxiety. The brass confidence of Poe Dameron was slipping. She could see it on him as clearly as she felt it within the Force.

“I’m sorry you have to do all this, Rey.”

“Mmm…” Rey murmured noncommittally around her thumb. The pain and her frustration subsided. “It’s nothing. I actually enjoy this sort of-“

“I’m not talking about the Falcon.”

His words were simple, but laced with warmth and grief. An attempt to connect, to express a series of complicated emotions that crashed within his mind. His eyebrows were drawn together, they’d become flecked with bits of white recently and there were fine lines under his eyes. It was uncomfortable to see this type of rawness from Poe in the same way it was uncomfortable to see how the strain of warfare was prematurely aging him. At least it was for Rey. Why did people have to make her feel things? Didn’t she have enough to deal with?

Rey looked down, under pretense of wiping at a splotch of oil on her arm, but really so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

“It’s fine.”

“No. It’s really not…”

_It’s not right that the whole Rebellion… the whole galaxy is relying on you._

_If I had done my mission right, you’d have never been caught up in this mess..._

_If I had been flying better, Finn would have never crashed and been left on Jakku..._

_If I wasn’t so goddamn cocky, Rose would still have a sister and we’d all still have Holdo..._

_If I was… if I was just **better** … this war would be long over, and General Organa wouldn’t have to suffer so much._

_If-_

Rey closed her eyes and shook her head with enough strength to knock a few strands of hair loose and make her neck ache. Poe’s thoughts had flooded into her without warning, drowning out her defenses with their intensity.

Without meaning to, her eyes locked with Poe’s. They were so open and unguarded in that moment, so much like Finn’s. When Poe was honest, even when he didn’t mean to be, those were the times Rey truly felt like they could connect; like they could be the greatest of friends. And maybe they would be if things could be different.

Still, it warmed her heart and steeled her resolve to know that he didn’t just see her as a weapon or a symbol to be exploited. Her dedication and sacrifice was recognized. Moreover, for all his bravado, Poe was so very sad and afraid; just as they all were. She could empathize with those feelings of despair and morose inadequacy. Wishing you had done more. Wishing you _were_ more. As a full Jedi, could she move beyond such things, or at the least shield the galaxy from it? Take all that sadness, let it flow through her; understood but unburdened, and let the people experience peace again?

But there was something else, deep in the darkest pits of her mind. The tiniest flicker of anger and resentment hissed up from that twisted, buried part of her. It made her eyes burn. Her teeth felt unnaturally sharp and violent in her mouth.

_The least you could do be is grateful. This is all for your sake._

As quickly as they whispered in her ear, Rey banished those thoughts away. No… That was just the stress talking; something they’d all been under far too much of lately.

Before she could respond to Poe, reassure him perhaps, the repeating bleat of a incoming transmission alert echoed through the cockpit.

“It’s Finn!” Poe said brightly, all indications of melancholy evaporating. He scrambled to answer the call. “Oh, I’ll patch him into BB-8 too.”

It was abrupt changes in countenance like that which made Rey wonder sometimes; was the brash, confident Poe Dameron honestly a real person? Or was he a carefully constructed presence, built to function in this galaxy at war? Perhaps she’d like him better and more consistently if he adopted a more sombre affect? That didn’t seem an entirely healthy attitude though.

_Well… perhaps it’s my type._

“Hey guys!” Finn snapped to life, a tiny man comprised of scan-lines and teal light, on the communication’s hub.

“Finn…” Rey found herself breathing out his name without even trying to grab his attention. His smile and warm eyes were a balm to her.

Also, she reflected, evidence that she clearly did deeply crave and value positive, kind people in her life. Perhaps her issues with Poe had simply to do with truthfulness or lack thereof. 

“We’re just about the touch down at base…” Finn noted, glancing up at Rey, “Wanted to check your ETA?”

“Still a bit out.” Rey replied simply, a flutter of disappointment that this conversation would likely be a short one.

There were muffled voices coming from Finn, or rather, somewhere in the cockpit of his ship. It was Rose, mixed with another girl’s voice; younger and inquisitive. Though broken by the spotty range of the microphone, they seemed to be talking with great energy about the process and science behind lightspeed travel.

“Who’s that?” Rey came up on Poe’s right.

“Ah, well…” Finn scrubbed at his scalp, looking a bit self conscious. “A lot’s happened on this mission. Just… a lot. We kinda have a kid…”

“Whoa!” Poe exclaimed loudly, whistling, and clapping his hands together. “Aren’t you and Rose moving a little fast?”

“Ack! No man! I mean…” Finn spoke very quickly, “It’s not I haven’t thought about it. But… no!”

Very faintly, Rey could hear Rose’s pleasant, yet sardonic, voice from somewhere near Finn. “What’re you talking about, honey?”

“See, there was this man on Lothal. And it’s HIS kid.” Finn was babbling, hands gesticulating as they often did under stress, “But, wait, sorry. Not really. It’s his grandson’s…”

Rey couldn’t help but giggle too, though she tried to press her lips together for Finn’s sake. She could hear Rose and this child of apparently complex origins laughing in the background.

 _“Finn…”_ a new voice cut in. I was a man’s, deep and rasping. “That seems a great deal of words to communicate that you went your of your way to rescue two lost people in need, does it not?”

There was something about this voice. Despite no speaker being visually present, it dominated the space. Rey’s skin prickled with its strange power and she leaned in. Even Poe was rendered silent by it.

Despite all that, Finn looked calm and happy; even breathing a sigh out. “Yea. Thanks, Megs.”

***

Down in Rey’s workshop, Knock Out was delighting an enraptured BB-8 with another tale of daring-do from the Autobots. Cybertronians may be mechanical in nature, but non-sentient droids were common enough within their society. Having said that, the inquisitive and talkative nature of BB-8 was unusual in all the best ways. It put Knock Out in mind of a newly forged protoform, freshly flying out of Cybertron’s core, eyes bright and full of questions.

It was… nice, Knock Out mused to himself. It brought out similar feelings from when he’d helped Rey forge her weapon a few hours prior. To be looked at with pure wonder. To be trusted. And now, to have a young thing hanging on his every word.

If things had been different, maybe he and Breakdown could have had their own…

 _No, no._ He chastised himself gently. _No sense actively making yourself sad._

“And so, with Cyclonus defeated, Bumblebee found me in that awful High Council prison. I said to him _‘well officer, if you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask’._ He was all business, as usual-”

A repeating, low series of _boops_ interrupted Knock Out’s story and BB-8 chirped in surprise.

“Hey buddy!” Poe’s voice called through an overhead communication’s grate, despite no speaker truly being there, BB-8 and Knock Out looked to the ceiling. “Finn’s sending us a transmission. You wanna listen in?”

The little droid provided an affirmative trill, wobbling in delight. Knock Out shook his head and sighed a little.

  
“Oh sure, cut me off right when it’s getting juicy... _Fine._ It’s fine.”

A new voice chimed through the room. A human male, open & friendly sounding, “Hey guys!”

The workshop was soon filled with the terribly chummy banter of the Rebel team. Knock Out leaned back on his hands, lightly clucking his tongue and half listening. If he wasn’t the center of attention any longer, he didn’t particularly see a reason to be fully engaged.

At least, not until a voice... a familiar voice, poisoned the air.

Its deep reverberations filled every pocket of space, overcame every molecule, and consumed Knock Out’s audio processor, drowning all thought. The voice of the Decepticon leader. His former great and horrific lord…

Megatron’s voice.

_“Finn…”_

There was more being said, but Knock Out couldn't focus. It was all so improbably; unthinkable! The humans were talking alongside Megatron, _laughing even_. It defied all logic or reason! Knock Out could barely focus on it. His claws scraped at the floor.

_Megatron? No… Why is he here? How… If he ever finds a traitor like me…_

All of this went utterly outside of BB-8’s notice, engrossed as he was in the jovial conservation from his beloved humans.

“Anyways, we’re taking Megs & Frankie back to base. Looking forward to seeing you there?” Finn was concluding, an air of inquiry on his voice.

“Of course!” Rey's voice replied brightly.

“Megs is super looking forward to meeting you.”

Knock Out’s insides of tubes and wires curled at his former commander’s response, it was laced with a dark chuckle.

_“Indeed I am. It will prove interesting to see what sort of person this ‘Rey’ is… One who you, Finn, hold in such high regard.”_

The line clicked off. Knock Out was staring forward, eyes wide and devoid of focus.

_Megatron… Megatron is here. That tyrant... He’s infiltrated the Resistance somehow. We’re going to the same place._

_He’s going to kill me._

He couldn’t seem to process sound properly. Everything was muffled as if underwater, yet still overly loud. The lights were too bright. His glossy, metal chassis that he took so much pride in felt constricting and painful. For a moment, he wanted to rip it all off piece by piece. He wanted to run. He wanted to drive. He wanted to thrash and scream. But he remained still, red eyes blown wide, and silent.

At some point, Knock Out was vaguely aware BB-8 was saying something. A brief parting and a note that the droid had been summoned up to the Falcon’s bridge, but that he looked forward to hearing more of Knock Out’s stories later.

The medic only managed a dismissive grunt. Or it was meant to be a grunt, in practice it came out a sharp whine.

BB-8 paused to consider the odd reaction of his new, favourite entertainer… but ultimately departed. Droids such as he were not built to ruminate on the unknown or hypotheticals. Unlike Knock Out, whose processor was running into overdrive over ever possible way Megatron could inflict torture upon his crimson self upon their reunion.

_What do I do? Can I break out of here? I don’t need to breath… maybe I could float through space? Can I tell Rey? No… she’ll never-_

Within the chaos of his mind, Knock Out didn’t realize he’d activated his short-range communicator until he was already receiving a signal.

_“What? Who dares contact me? I’ll have you know this is a private channel-“_

Starscream.

Knock Out would later reflect that it said a lot about his mental state at the moment that Starscream’s croaking voice actually sounded reassuring. True, their last interaction hadn’t exactly been affable; what with Knock Out breaking the Immobilizer over Starscream’s head in a rage. But these were desperate times. Besides, the former Decepticon Second in Command was someone who understood what it was like to live under Lord Megatron; the intimidation, the fear. Starscream and Knock Out had, at times, been great allies together on board the Nemesis… when they weren’t selling each other up the river.

But that was then, and this was now.

If there was one person Starscream could possibly hate more than Knock Out, it could only be Megatron.

“Starscream, oh thank Solus Prime! Listen, I need to-”

“Knock Out? How… How in the AllSpark are you calling me? How are you even here?”

“Space Bridge malfunction. I lost track of… But that’s not important right now. Listen...”

“Bah!” Starscream roared in Knock Out’s internal audio receptors. The rest of his diatribe coming in a mix of mumbles and shrieks, “This is supposed to be my personal galaxy to conquer! I don’t recall giving you permission to come… messing up my carefully laid plans. Utterly typical! Why, oh why, does the universe see fit to not grant me a moment of reprieve?”

 _“Will you listen to me?”_ Knock Out snapped, his own voice taking on a deep growl as it often did when he was flustered or enraged. “I’m on a ship, though that’s using the term generously, the Millennium Falcon and-”

“…The Millennium Falcon?” Starscream snapped over him, drowning out anything further Knock Out had to say with contemplative humming. “That’s the ship carrying the so-called Resistance hero, Rey, is it not? The scavenger of Jakku? Hmm?” his voice took on an unpleasant wheedle.

Knock Out could feel his internal processor skidding to a halt like a faulty set of breaks. “Y-yes. But why-?”

“You see, my dear doctor, I’ve found myself a pleasant seat within the soon-to-be de facto ruling faction within this universe. Which will be _my universe_ in short order, of course." his statement was punctuated by a smug laugh, "They’ve been hunting like mad for that puny fleshling in particular. Resources are stretched thin. Quite the predicament.” There was a clicking sound over the line, presumably Starscream admiring his claws. “Bringing her in will be a delightful boon for me and, of course, whomever assisted me in doing so…”

He let the question hang for a few moments, but eventually Starscream grew bored with the quiet and snarled.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Transmit your coordinates to me immediately!”

Knock Out was still, neither moving nor speaking. His thoughts raced again and again over two repeating images. First, there was Rey, looking up at him with delight and new weapon in hand. The way her mouth was so open and her face so full of light. But then there was Megatron, bearing down upon him, teeth flashing and murder in his eyes.

He didn’t realize he’d sent his location until it was too late.

“Very good, Knock Out.” Starscream purred. The sound made Knock Out’s throat seize. “You’re finally proving useful to me. I'll see you soon…”

The communicator went dead.

Knock Out was alone.

Alone in a miserable, filthy workshop, on a miserable filthy ship full of living creatures he’d just sentenced to death.

“Useful…” he whispered softly.

_Pathetic self-serving wretch … if you were in any way useful, you would never have run from Megatron in the first place and you wouldn’t be in this mess._

_You’d never have never done what you just did._

_If you were a useful Autobot, you would have never lost Optimus Prime._

_If you were a useful partner, Breakdown would still be alive._

Knock Out slumped forward, an arm flopping over his upper thigh. He exhaled loudly. His mind had been racing near moments before, but now there was nothing. Not even whispers of his fear of Megatron. Nothing except Rey’s smiling face, frozen in time. Her gentle _‘thank you’_ playing over and over, as if on a broken jukebox from some forgotten social club back on Cybertron.

“Forgive me…”

***

Despite her earlier distress, Francie Greene couldn’t be happier to arrive at the Resistance Base, which in turn, made Megatron happy. Or at least, it provided him with a level of peace. Even after all the time he had spent with Cody, the former Decepticon still found it… unfamiliar, or perhaps undeserved, to share in the emotional high points of the humans around him. Traditionally, Megatron’s happiness had meant the nearby suffering or misfortune of others. And as part of his ongoing project to not inflict torment upon the galaxy, he was often ill equipped to express, what would Cody call it…? Empathy?

Perhaps that was it.

Empathy to others still remained a bit of challenge. Alongside appropriately behavioural responses when behaving in an empathetic manner. There were some exceptions of course, Finn had proven, so far, to be easy to connect and converse with.

During his tenure so far on Griffin Rock, Megatron had relied on Cody and the boy's infinite wellspring of patience and kindness to dictate the tone of a conversation, or dictating appropraite responses. It was terribly convenient. Why worry about morality when you can simply have a very young human child tell you right from wrong throughout the working day?

But… he couldn’t rely on Cody now, could he?

And though Megatron’s head did swim with thoughts of the danger the boy could potentially be in, he was bolstered by the faith he had in Cody’s intelligence, survival skills, and tenacity.

At the end of the day, Cody could function in just about any scenario without Megatron. The same could not be said in reverse.

 _“Thank the AllSpark for Finn.”_ Megatron thought to himself, _“Or at least, people like Finn. And Cody. Who actually want to… help other people. Despite everything.”_

Despite the often ugly state of the world.

Despite the often ugly state of those living in it.

Despite how ugly I…

Well…

Their little group had landed amidst a flurry of Resistance technicians storming the ship, keen to ensure the vessel was still of use to their cause. The techs were, of coursed, forced flee upon coming face-to-face with Trex, just as excited to stretch his long legs as he was to meet new people.

“Chill! Chill!” Finn was calling down the landing plank, chasing behind the great lizard, who was now bounding around the shipyard amidst the panicked cries of local crew. “We brought him, he’s friendly.”

“Trex! Sit boy!” Frankie called out over the chaos in a stern voice. Fearless as always, she’d run off the ship and in front of Finn easily.

Trex instantly obliged, sitting on his behind with the pads of his large feet sticking out awkwardly in front of him. He panted heavily.

Rose brought up the rear alongside Megatron, her dark hair barely brushing above his avatar’s elbow, gleeful at the excitement.

“Glad to see someone finds the humour in all this.” Megatron found himself murmuring down at her, almost fondly.

“I just like animals, that’s all.” She replied with a grin that lit up her whole face. “The bigger and cuter the better.”

Megatron tugged at his hat. “You ought to come visit my… Cody’s island sometime. Nothing but chaos, and big…” he stumbled a bit on the word, “…Cute things. Plenty of excitement for you.”

“If there’re more like Trex there, I’ll take you up on that offer.” She playfully patted at his elbow before catching up to Finn.

“Oh, you have no idea…”

His avatar surveyed the Resistance Base. “Base” seemed a rather generous descriptor for this jungle encampment. A cobbled together settlement of tents and repurposed human ships that put him in mind of Decepticons huddled together in ramshackle shelters in the days of the Fall of Cybertron. Shoddy looking consoles sat outside in the open air and thick electrical cables snaked over the short grass. There was a massive cave nearby which appeared to be in use for barracks.

In short order, Finn was being whisked away for debriefing, glancing back apologetically to Megatron. The young man needn’t have looked anxious, spending time away from scrutiny suited “Megs” just fine.

Perhaps he ought to communicate that when Finn returned to his side. No sense in being a contributing factor to the young man's grief.

It didn’t even cross the old tyrant’s mind that this meant his true body would remain immobile for longer still. Just as well, if the off chance that he was seen, Rose probably wouldn’t think a Decepticon gladiator was particularly ‘cute’.

Speaking of Rose, she'd taken it upon herself to guide Frankie and Trex towards suitable place for them to be housed. Frankie, as befitting her nature as a scientist, had quickly become enraptured by the technology on display within the Resistance ship and was ecstatic to explore more. Rose was only too happy to oblige the young girl’s curiosity, provided that afforded lots and lots of time with Trex. Megatron followed the two girls at a pace several steps back, idly listening to their chatter of light speed travel, developments in medical tech, and other such topics. Trex clumped along with heavy steps as they traversed the outskirts of the encampment, occasionally distracted by a fluttering bird or insect. Resistance operatives gaping as they passed.

It provided a sense of peace, in its own way, to see Frankie alert and engaged. Happily talking to another young lady about a shared passion. He mused that it was unusual for him to be so passively engrossed in watching the conversation of others and being made glad by it. Cody’s influence at work, no doubt.

So pleasant were these feelings that he almost wasn’t distracted by a small shape on the ground. Something slumped between the billowing fabric of tents, perceptible out of the corner of his eye. An older human woman, with silver hair, sunken to her knees.

Almost.

***

Leia Organa was on the move, as usual, when her legs gave out from under her.

It wasn’t a bad fall at all, more of a slow sink to the ground. One moment, she had been briskly walking through a lesser used outer area of the base on Ajan Kloss, observing the logs reports from several dusty storage tents. The next thing she knew, her knees flared with a hot pain and she found she needed to sink into a seated position for fear of toppling over. Her Alderaanian jewelry tinkled on her ears and her grey tunic swelled as she went down. A single lock of silver hair came loose from her careful circlet of braids and hung gracelessly over her shoulder; or at least, that was her impression.

As her body stilled, she took stock of her lack of apparent injuries and mumbled, “Hmm… Well, this is less than ideal.”

A quick bob of her head to the left and right indicated no one was around, which meant to one had seen. Which was good; the Resistance didn’t need to be watching their general taking a tumble for no good reason when there was work to be done.

Truth be told, it was nice to have a brief reprieve; to not be in constant motion. Her legs were so tired.

She was so tired.

But she didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

“Up we go.” She huffed to herself, only to realize very quickly that she could not.

Despite no obvious pain, numbness, or weakness, her legs refused to respond. They would not shift to allow her to stand. Her knees remained stoically bent, with her calves locked beneath. She tried again, straining at her core; but still nothing.

She was forced to stop in her efforts when it became plain that she would knock herself into a full sprawl over before she could compel these suddenly useless appendages into action.

“Hey…” Leia whispered, not too loudly. Attention mustn’t be attracted. She slapped her right upper thigh with the heel of her hand. “You’re my legs, aren’t you? Get up!”

They didn’t oblige.

The Princess of Alderaan leaned her head back and breathed out heavily. Her eyes screwed shut.

_Fantastic._

Was this it? After a lifetime of toil, of growing up in the Empire’s galaxy, tactfully navigating politics and blasting her way out when the situation called for it. Watching the First Order rise. Losing her son. Losing her husband, nearly losing everything… This was it?

She’d fallen and she couldn’t get up.

Suddenly, she was back on Crait, in pain and exhausted; no one was coming. Waiting to die.

A dark hour.

But… no. She hadn’t given up there and she wouldn’t give up now.

Leia breathed in, filling her lungs with air, and exhaled. She willed herself to centre, to connect with the Force. The limitations of one’s physical form did not matter there. Yes, she was aging, there was no denying this. Her body was not, and would never be, as strong as she wanted it to be again. The price for her life of excitement, danger, and heroism. But that was irrelevant, her spirit within the Force would never diminish. In fact, it was stronger than it had ever been. A body was ultimately meaningless, there was nothing she couldn’t do.

Still, this body was needed now. It had more to do. And it would be helpful if she could get it to move.

If someone would…

“Miss?”

Leia’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head sharply. Face schooled to neutral. There was a man approaching her. A stranger; a hulking giant in a broad brimmed hat, silver hair, and a grey coat. Was he a new recruit? There were so few new faces in their ranks these days. So few faces in general, come to that.

There was something… odd about this man, though. The Force hummed around him in an unusual way. As though he wasn’t really there. Or as if he was impossibly large; larger than any human. She was reminded suddenly of the last precious seconds she’d had with her brother. How he had been at once with her and yet not. And how he was with her always, even now.

And that meant there was truly nothing to fear.

Not from death, and not from this stranger.

“Miss?” she said, partly to herself, “No one’s called me that in years.”

The old man was walking slowly towards her, scanning the environment. If he’d heard her, he didn’t give any indication. He was speaking though. Barely audible, he was rumbling something to himself in a dry, croaking voice. Something that sounded learned through practiced repetition. It made her raise an eyebrow.

“I am ensuring the scene is safe to enter. I am assessing how many hu- _er_ … people are involved…”

He looked over to her directly. She felt a chill hiss along her spine. But she hadn’t spent a lifetime dealing with the slimiest of politicians and stared down Lord Vader himself for nothing. 

She responded with a humorous lit. Her hands were spread conversationally over her upper thighs.

“Just me.”

Again, the stranger didn’t reply immediately. He was closer now. There were metal spurs on his boots that jangled with each step.

“I am… determining if the person is…” his speech slowed, and he looked skyward, apparently trying to remember, “… Awake and responsive, and that there is no severe life-threatening bleeding. Then, I obtain consent."

“Excuse me?” Leia replied flatly.

The old man snapped out from his recollecting and blinked down at her from underneath the shadows of his hat. His scarred lips slumped.

There was a prolonged pause, but finally he growled softly, “Hmm... The medical practice dolls never talked back.”

***

_“Okay, so after you’ve gotten consent… then you tell the person your name, describe your training, state what you think is wrong and-“_

_“And then the human has a heart attack upon hearing me speak and it becomes some else’s problem.”_

_“Megatron! This is serious! You need to know how to do these first aide steps if you’re gonna help the Bots out.”_

_“And I’m being serious when I say there is little I can offer in the field of human protection. The populace of this island is far too wary of me. Best leave it to the… professionals.”_

_“C’mon, big guy. At least try to remember the basics. I might not always be with you to help out.”_

_“…”_

_“Megatron?”_

_“…You’ll never be without me, Cody.”_

***

“Ah, so Finn & Rose brought you in?” Leia Oragana queried at Megatron’s side.

“Indeed. They speak very highly of you.”

This was a busy day of new experiences for the old tyrant. Not only had he finally put Cody’s training to practical use, but he had come face to face with the human Resistance leader. Wonders never did cease.

“And your grandson’s been training you to be… a medic?” she had a powerful grip on his lower arm as helped her walk along the grass. It was impressive for a human.

“It’s been… a process.” Megatron replied, unsure how much detail to embed in his sentence.

“Ah well, I’m sure you’ll have it down by the time you’ve hit one hundred and five.”

“Was I ever that young?”

Leia laughed at that, even leaning her head back. Excellent! Was this what the humans called small-talk? He felt like he was doing an exemplary job.

Despite their rather awkward meeting, the silver haired woman had pleasantly laughed off his apparent faux pas, really though, human social norms were far too confusing.

She'd then offered a small hand, _“Help a lady up?”_

Separated from Frankie & Rose, Megatron saw no reason to refuse and every reason to see if he could actually carry out this task. Particularly after his failure at comforting Frankie. A sort of experiment, really. It was a truly rare thing for him to approach a human, in this form or otherwise, and have them laugh pleasantly while asking for help. To smile conversationally at him…

To actually _trust_ him…

From there, it had been a simple process of half carrying, half guiding her back to her private dwellings per her instruction to also stay out of sight. A yurt, comprised of rich purple cloth, just at the far end of the base and passed the cave mouth. There was a waterfall nearby with a crude wooden waterwheel meant to generate power, but it also provided the atmosphere with a soothing soundscape.

A space befitting a princess, which apparently she also was, according to Finn. Though she didn’t look a thing like the princesses Cody had shown him in books and in those fascinating cartoon movies.

Surely her talking animal friends and flowing ball gowns were hidden away in her quarters.

She was a small thing, barely any weight and he could have carried her in his arms easily. But she insisted that she at least make a go of walking independently. This apparently had been a wise and reasonable decision, as movement in her legs did seem to be returning the more, she forced them forward.

Humans were impressive in such surprising ways. Their lives were so short and their bodies so fragile. Yet they were always showing him, ancient metallic monstrosity that he was, incredible feats of reliance, dynamism, and strength.

Perhaps this was the power Optimus had seen within them all those years ago, and what had inspired the Prime’s deep abiding love for the species.

That was yet still another thing Megatron couldn’t quite understand though. It was one thing to admire truly exemplary individuals, such as Cody, or Finn, or this princess. It was another to extend love and protection to an entire populace. What had all they done to deserve it?

Well… maybe that was something Cody could teach him too. When they were reunited.

The pair came through the thick fabric doors of her yurt. It was round and cool, elevated off the ground with a wooden floor comprised of honeycomb shaped slats. The space was populated by various storage units, old chests, and a bed of dark fabric that matched the walls. Disappointingly, there were no charming woodland creatures or magical clothing. But there were two droids, one tall, plated with chrome and human shaped, the other a blue & white cylinder on wheels with no visible face. They’d apparently been engaged in a conversation upon Leia’s arrival, but the tall one instantly ignored his partner to bombarded her with a flurry of anxious fussing.

“Oh heavens! My dear princess! What ever has befallen you? How-”

Leia cut him off quickly, clearly a practiced and familiar interaction, “It’s all right, this nice man’s been helping me.” She waved vaguely beside her, leaning more heavily into Megatron. “C-3PO, go fetch the Dr. Bellis, would you?”

The droid halted in his fretting; head swaying a little. But he responded almost immediately after, stiff legs creaking as he walked, arms held outwards, “Ah, of course. I shall do so!” He altered his path from approaching them to sweep out the doorway. He paused briefly to spin his head to the side and look at Megatron. “Bless you sir!”

Megatron grunted.

Once his anxious companion had departed, the smaller droid warbled something from the middle of the room.

“I know Bellis is off world, R2. I just wanted some peace.” Leia chuckled, pulling at Megatron’s lower arm in the direction of the bed.

“Sorry to drag you all this way.” She noted up at Megatron in a soft voice. She truly was dragging him, in fact, her intense strength drawing him downwards as she sunk heavily on the mattress. In a louder vice, she called to the remaining droid, “R2, how about some tea?”

It provided a chirping reply that Megatron translated as _“No thanks!”_ , but it still wheeled away behind a bamboo divider. A small kitchenette was apparently housed there and the droid set about its task.

“Little smart ass…” Lia murmured; she was sinking back into an array of sumptuous pillows. One wrinkled hand with even, immaculate nails still gripped firmly to the fabric of Megatron’s coat. “Well, I guess I should let you get on outta here.”

She didn’t make any motion to release him, however. She swung her legs up onto the bed and settled in. Megatron, without thinking, lowered to crouch alongside. If he truly wanted to, he could wrench himself loose, but that seemed… excessive.

Leia rubbed her free hand over her face. There were lines embedded in her skin and dark circles under her eyes, it was as though she was trying to scrub them away. She yawned and immediately attempted to smother that as well.

She sighed, “Okay, nap time for it.” A dry, humorless laugh. She then turned to Megatron, staring pointedly at him. “There’s just one thing I want to ask…”

Seeing humans through the eyes of a hardlight avatar was often disorienting. The details and complexities on their faces often wasn’t picked up fully by a Cybertronian, advanced scanners or not. This woman, this Leia, she had peculiar eyes indeed. Both as cool and firm as the finest tempered steel, and yet as warm as a sunrise. There was a power to them, as though she was looking right through him.

By all accounts, it should have unsettled the old warlord, but strangely it did not.

She wet her lips and cocked her head gently to the side, the pillows rustled, “So… Where’s the rest of you?”

Megatron blinked twice. Everything was very quiet. So, there was more to this human woman than met the eye too. Well, he never was one for stealth.

Cody did always promote the ideal of honesty...

“As a truck in Finn’s ship. I’m a giant sentient machine with shape changing abilities, you see.”

He let the statement hang. Leia was silent for a few moments, but eventually leaned back into the bedding and laughed a warm cackle.

“Right… Well, that’s a new one.”

Megatron looked down, chuckling to himself as well. The brim of his hat blocked her from view, and by the time her looked up, she was already asleep. The ghost of a smile upon her face.

Sighing, Megatron moved to rise, only to release that was wasn’t going anywhere. Her hand had slipped down into his own clasped firmly around his calloused fingers. It was a firm grip from tiny, slim digits. Again, nothing the fantastic strength of this avatar couldn’t break. But she was sleeping and doing such as thing didn’t seem befitting of a rescue worker.

He leaned against the bedframe, fully seated. From across the room, he could hear the workings of that little blue droid. Beyond that, the sound of rushing water. The Resistance camp seemed very far away. He wondered if Rose & Frankie were looking for him. Had they even noticed his absence?

He looked over at the sleeping princess and his trapped hand. An ironic fate, that the champion gladiator of Kaon could be restrained by such a simple thing as a human woman. Still, wasn’t this what he’d signed up for when he’d allied with Cody Burns? To put some back good into the universe? To stop inflicting suffering? To work and live as a Rescue Bot did?

Not that he’d historically had much success with the endeavor. Not until recently anyways.

What would the Bots say if they could see him now? Heatwave would probably think the whole affair hilarious. The firetruck delighted in situations that 'knocked Megatron down a few pegs'. Well, that was understandable in its own way. Two mechs with leadership history in the same place was a recipe for conflict.

Chase, on the other hand, would probably have a million and one notes of all the mistakes Megatron had made, and the improper boundaries that had been crossed in this rescue attempt. Whether that living database had any personal feelings on the matter would be something else entirely.

And then there was Blades. Well…

 _Blades would think this was just the cutest thing._ Wouldn’t he?

Boulder though… he’d understand.

Boulder, with his gentle patience, his ease, and his friendliness. He’d know instantly how this had happened and why Megatron needed to stay. Cody had repeatedly told the old Decepticon not to state the fact, but Boulder was truly Megatron’s favourite. Perhaps the only one on the team that he could call anything close to a ‘friend’. Boulder didn’t judge or harangue in an attempt to establish dominance in a conversation like Heatwave did. He didn’t disengage by way of facts and figures like Chase did. And he certainly didn’t gravitate between obsessive emotional outbursts and bothersome fear like Blades did.

No… Boulder was someone who Megatron could trust. The great, green bulldozer was a magnificent rescue worker who, nevertheless, had patience for Megatron’s shortcomings in the area. They could spend hours discussing art or poetry together. There were so many ways in which they were different, but Boulder didn’t mind. Truly, if there was one being he missed more than Cody at that moment, it was Boulder.

Still, this certainly would be a scene for the whole team to see. It could at least serve as a demonstration that all of Cody’s efforts hadn’t been entirely wasted. That Megatron could do something moderately positive for a human being.

Megatron looked down at that tiny pale hand, and then out into the empty room. Water from a kettle was whistling faintly.

“I’m helping…” he said very, very quietly to no one at all.

***

The atmosphere on the Axalon was tense.

Not for anything done or said by one of the crew members, human or otherwise. No, the source of unease came entirely from outside the confines of the ship and their little fleet helmed by liberated children.

Cody stood slightly behind Nickel and Cogman, who in turn were just off to the side of Shadow Striker. Standing at full height in the docking bay, eyes grim and weapon at the ready; a purple rifle that matched her original chassis. Behind her left ankle, Kel and Eila were hidden away, the only two children of the crew not sealed behind the area’s blast doors. There hadn’t been enough time for them to evacuate.

In addition, Eila had been oddly hesitant about fleeing in the face of their new visitors.

Even now, she fought against the confines of her brother’s embrace, trying to poke her head out from behind Shadow Striker’s great foot. The Cybertronian was aware of the girl’s subterfuge and would shift positions every now and then, with a growl, to keep the child out of sight. Not unlike a human trying to corral an inquisitive kitten.

They’d been hailed only a few moments prior, completely blindsiding Cogman’s careful navigation to stay out of First Order’s optics. Despite that, what appeared to be a FO Lancer-class frigate had dropped out of hyper space and made contact, requesting to peacefully board. This was followed by an insistence from presumably the communications officer that they were friendlies.

Indeed, the ship didn’t appear to be operating under First Order standards of cleanliness and presentation. It was covered dents and evidence of missile fire. Several parts looked aftermarket and hastily installed. Moreover, the hull had been painted with a symbol on all sides resembling a horses’ skull; at least that’s what Cody’s first impression was. Though it was a little too broad and featured a set of curved tusks. 

Nickel’s assumption was pirates, particularly given the adult sounding voice of their contact from the approaching vessel. All the more reason not to take chances. Hence the sequestering of the kids far away into the safety of the Axalon. Nickel had wanted Cody hidden away too, but there hadn’t been time to argue.

The boy felt fairly confident with Shadow Striker at the ready, and she was more than eager to demonstrate how well she could protect the crew. Of course, her eagerness for violence made a weight in Cody’s stomach too. He had not desire to see her hurt others for his sake today, or any day.

The ground shook. Metal groaned as the ship connected out of sight. Servo rumbled a low growl in his chest.

The landing bay doors opened slowly as a rush of pressurized air linked with the docking platform of the new ship.

A group of people stepped out from the brightness; all human. It was immediately clear they were not First Order, with their varied clothing, uncovered faces, and patchwork weapons. They were framed by a small pack of animals, large quadrupeds with short tusks and thick, shaggy coats of fur. Their large hooves clopped loudly on the durasteel as they slowly lumbered.

A young woman stepped forward, leading the group. A tan coloured cape billowed from her shoulders. She had dark skin and a thick, lovely mass of midnight curls held back on her forehead by some sort of repurposed piece of armor. A bow was slung over her shoulder, likewise pieced together from salvaged parts. She had a slim, attractive face and wide eyes staring up at, of course, Shadow Striker.

The rest of her company, also sporting composite weapons and tan to black clothing, was similarly enraptured and halted their progress. The beasts snorted, throwing back their long heads, and stamped in distress.

Cody felt Cogman and Nickel tense near him at the animals’ behaviour. But panic was leaving Cody’s mind & body. These were not the faces of angry people looking to dominate. It was plain to see. These indeed were friendlies. Maybe even friends.

“Wow…” the leading woman spoke, her lips forming a near perfect circle. “You really do have an… iron giant. There ae rumors flying around, but… I didn’t think…”

Shadow Striker huffed and patted her gun, metal fingers clacking. “I just hope you heard about how much damage _this giant_ can do.”

The visitors backed up slightly, a murmur running through them of apprehension. Their leader, however, held her ground. More snorts from their mounts, one pawed noisily at the flooring.

Cody moved to speak but cut himself off as a blur of brown and red crossed his path. Eila, likely noticing Shadow Striker’s distraction, had taken the opportunity to slip free of her brother and ran forward.

“Orbaks!” she declared loudly, pointing a finger at the beasts, “I’ve read about them! So cool!”

“Hey!” Shadow Striker and Kel snapped in unison, but Shadow Striker had the benefit of reaching down a massive hand to try and sweep the child back.

Cody held up two flat palms, blocking the Cybertronia’s path. “Whoa there. It’s okay! It’s okay…”

Eila had already scampered forward, a steel grey orbak pulling out from its handler’s reigns to greet her. It snuffled at her mop of hair with a large nose and made a pleased sound halfway between a grunt and a whinny. Laughing softly, she reached a gentle hand out to stroke at its long, wiry mane.

The air calmed and the rest of the orbaks settled.

“And these ships are full of freed children…” the leading woman spoke softly, watching the interaction with un-disguised wonder. She then looked down at Cody and smiled, “I’m Jannah.”

Cody walked forward, holding out a hand. “And I’m Cody Burns. Welcome to the Axalon.”

She clasped his small hand in her larger one. Servo dropped all pretenses of hostility and happily bounded forward to inspect their new guests and animals, sniffing about casually. Jannah’s party continued to gawk up at Shadow Striker, who seemed perplexed at the new, pleasant atmosphere, and was floundering.

“T-that’s right! The Axalon. Where human safety is my number one concern.” She jabbed her chin towards them, “You… jumbo sized humans better respect that.”

“Well, technically they’re normal sized.” Cody noted brightly, tipping his head back to look at her. “What’s on the Axalon… Those are all kids. We’re small now, but we’ll grow bigger.”

“Ha?” Shadow Striker snapped her monocled eye down to look at the boy in confusion, blinking her good one rapidly. Eventually, she shook her head. “Biologicals… so confusing. Always _doing_ something.”

“Indeed, dreadfully inconvenient.” Cogman replied in a dry voice.

“We were kids once too.” Jannah cut over them, gesturing to her company. She had an archer’s glove on one hand. “The First Order conscripted... abducted us into their war when we were all children. We were raised in their violence and their lies.” She looked off to the side, her eyes had become hard. “I wish we could have done what you’re doing.”

“Well…” Cody replied, nodding to his companions, “We couldn’t have done that without Cogman and Nickel.”

“Heh…” Jannah laughed softly, “Too bad we didn’t have them around.”

“Well of course. Everyone needs a ‘Cogman’, mum.” He chimed in, raising his hands up near his shoulders as though grasping lapels. He then leaned into Nickel and whispered privately. “It’s so nice to be wanted.”

She made a _tisking_ sound with her tongue in response.

“But we mutinied when ordered to fire on civilians.” Jannah continued, facing forward again. “We took over our assigned ship and fled. We’ve all been on the run since.”

Another member of her party, a tall man, spoke up, “We heard about this ship and how its captive children fought. How they were freeing other ships…”

“And we wanted to join up with you.” Jannah finished with a nod that made her curls bounce.

Cody looked over the group, particularly at Eila. Kel had approached his sister and joined her in petting an orbak. A second creature, featuring white and beige spots like splattered paint, jostled to get close and receive attention from these new humans, making the boy giggle.

Nickel rocked on her tire wheels and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “I think I already know the answer…”

“Of course!” Cody replied happily.

The Mini-Con sighed loudly.

“Safety in numbers I suppose.” Cogman noted, giving Nickel a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Besides, it might be good for the young master to have more contact with adult humans, eh? Positive influence and all that.”

Nickel made an uneasy grunt, her stumpy arms crossed over her chest, “We’re positive enough…”

“Plus, she has a cape!” Cogman pressed on, gestured to Jannah, “And, if Cody’s tales of Earthian fiction are to be believed, a cape is a sure indicator of a stalwart hero.”

As Cody moved forward to get acquainted with Jannah’s team, another orbak had managed to slip free from the group. It took the long way around, head bent low, on a mission to investigate Shadow Striker’s metal foot. Her red eyes followed it; try as it might, such a large boned animal couldn’t truly be thought of as stealthy by any definition. Upon reaching its destination, it stuck a long, blue tongue out for a taste test, and drew back with a braying snort. Looking up at her pointedly as if to answer for her odd composition.

The metal giant glared down at it briefly, before leaning down to run a single finger gently down its back.

“Weird dog…” she murmured.

As the hubbub of greetings continued, Cody was already at Jannah’s side and speaking quickly.

“You guys came at a great time, there’s a major mission lined up! We’re planning on making contact with the Colossus and…”

Upon hearing his home station, Kel looked over his should and smiled. “Oh! Cody, on that note… There’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you…”

***

Kylo Ren, physically, was sequestered within his private quarters. Mentally, he was several million lightyears away. Or at least he assumed so. He had no frame of reference for the location ‘Jasper, Nevada’; whether this referred to a country, a planet, a moon, or otherwise. There was little means of gathering evidence, considering that he was contained within some sort of cavernous dwelling with no sightline to the sky.

The space seemed to be military in construction, carved into the rock of a mountain and furnished with metal support beams and steel flooring. The presence of massive computers and other related technology that towered overhead, the size of houses, indicated that this was no space for humans. Rather, this was the living quarters of the giants that haunted his dreams.

Back in reality, Kylo say crossed legged on his bed, face bare and eyes closed. The Sith holocron sat slumped on one smooth side along the Supreme Leader’s table of treasures. For many hours, he had pored over the ancient object, attempting to unlock its secrets. But such activity had only produced wasted effort and frustration. Indeed, those horrific cultists had spoken true, and the device required a key to be unlocked.

It was just as well. Setting aside the holocron meant an excuse to further connect with the spark. Sleep was no longer required to tap into its visions, though it was often helpful and expedited the process. He’d probably had more hours of consistent rest in years, thanks to this research. The spark had shown him so much over the past few days. Always featuring the same red, silver, and blue giant with a strong voice and blue eyes. Kylo had come to learn this being’s name was Optimus Prime. A leader, a general, and perhaps… a god of some sort; to a group of further creatures of chrome, the Autobots. They were engaged in a long-standing conflict, headed up in chief by that… terrifying monster with red eyes and fangs; Megatron. As such, Kylo Ren was nearly always presented with some new awesome spectacle of combat between these giants that made the ground quake under their terrible might. Exhilarating clashes of metal to metal. Great blasts of laser-fire overhead and limbs being torn asunder. Optimus leading his men into glorious battle, charging against Megatron’s chilling lust for violence.

As atrocious and panic-inducing as seeing Megatron was to Kylo Ren, this was tempered by the magnificence of witnessing Optimus Prime engage the brute, as they often did. The pair seemed to have some sort of previous relationship, hence the first dream Kylo Ren had invaded. But whatever they had been, clearly, now resided purely in the realms of deep, abiding hatred.

Again, just as well. A creature like Megatron had no business existing in the presence as something so grand as Optimus; unless it was to be met with violence. A certain investment had been born from repeatedly witnessing these visions, or perhaps it was simply good sense. The thought of Optimus and that _horror_ of a titan together in anything but combat made Kylo’s blood go cold.

But today, the imagery was different. No warfare, no harrowing yells, no stamp of mammoth feet. Instead, Kylo Ren found himself in what appeared to be the Autobots’ home. A gentle place of stone and metal.

The large, rounded green one lounged ideally against a wall, speaking animatedly with a human girl featuring a shock of pink running through her dark hair. Two other young humans, both boys, were engaged with a variety of holo adjacent entertainment on an elevated platform nearby. A blue female of a small, slim build casually watched their sport while exercising her arms with dual weights comprised of metal bars and cinderblocks. The air was quiet, domestic even.

As usual, the presence of Kylo Ren went unremarked upon. He was a spectre, an unseen and unfelt observer within the space. As evidenced by the orange and white giant, the crew’s apparent doctor, nearly squashing Kylo flat with one of his feet as the medic moved with brisk steps across the floor. Dashing quickly out of the way, Kylo realized belatedly that he likely couldn’t be crushed in this dream space. Still, he was in no hurry to test that theory. Even when not in battle, these were still massive beings, and intimidating in scale alone, enough to make him sweat.

The maneuver had put Kylo Ren closer to Optimus, the giant had been busily working away as a large console. Information in a language Kylo couldn’t parse flashed in neon green, reflecting on the Prime’s silver face. His study was interrupted by the approach of a younger crew member, bright yellow with stocky features and blue eyes, larger even than Optimus’. Though Kylo couldn’t hope to guess their ages, or even if they had the concept at all, its looks and open body language communicated a certain childishness. It also didn’t speak, or at least, did not seem able to commune in Basic. Rather, it ‘spoke’ via a series of _beeps_ and _boops_ , not unlike an astromech. Its mouthpiece was also concealed via the lower portions its helmet. Either way, the crew seemed to understand the youth just fine.

The young one was saying something to Optimus, complete with energetic hand gestures and fluttering of the doors that hung off the smaller Bots’ shoulders like inset wings. Optimus was listening, his eyes kind and understanding; it seemed his great prowess on the battlefield was matched by his patience at home. Eventually, the Prime clasped a large hand over a round, yellow shoulder.

“Bumblebee, as always, you show a wisdom far beyond your years. Never feel shy in sharing your thoughts with me. I value your counsel, as I do all on my team.”

The voice of Optimus Prime was deep, kind, and wise. It made the young giant, Bumblebee, rub the back of his head and buzz a soft reply.

There was something about this sequence, this interaction in particular, that made Kylo Ren suddenly feel very self conscious. A side of his lips twitched, and a swell of yearning began to claw at his chest.

This was a ludicrous notion, of course. Nothing about Optimus Prime’s speech or countenance was anything even remotely like Han Solo. And who was even to say what the bonds between these titans was; whether they bred as humans did? Yet still, to look at the Prime, the soft blue of his eyes, and his forbearance with this Bumblebee… there was no doubt they were as father and son.

Perhaps this pain was nostalgia.

“Dad…” Kylo Ren found himself whispering quietly.

The dreamscape changed instantly. All sound cut out; all movement ceased.

All except for one.

Optimus Prime’s bright eyes snapped down to the tiny, utterly unremarkable form of Kylo Ren. In that instance, the Supreme Leader of the First Order felt like a miniscule insect, caught under the eye of watchful housekeeper; awaiting its death.

All he could do was swallow and take a half step back.

“Please…” Optimus said slowly.

The giant extended a large, metal hand down at a restrained pace, as though not trying to spook a frightened animal. Which, Kylo supposed with some hysteria, was an accurate appraisal of the situation.

Perhaps sensing Kylo’s distress, Optimus halted and blinked. His next words seemed carefully considered.

“You can… understand me, correct?”

Kylo found himself replying with a sharp nod, uncertain if it was perceptible or not. His heartbeat was impossibly loud in his ear and his leg muscles were coiled, ready to flee. Adrenaline was spiking through his system at the scrutiny. His bones ached.

“Please listen. You _must_ free me.” Optimus Prime’s eyes were wide and beseeching, his battle mask was down and even, white teeth could be seen inside his mouth. “I must reunite my Spark with my physical body. Set it… Set me free, please…”

At these words from the giant, a deep tremble ran down Kylo’s spine. Breath hissed sloppily from between his teeth and lips. His theories were correct. The spark… it was… It had always been _alive_. And it was Optimus. He, Kylo Ren, had captured it, and contained it. And now, Optimus… he begged for freedom.

Optimus wanted to leave.

“No!”

Kylo roared without meaning to. Truly, it had been his intention to merely speak. To gather information. To converse if possible. But he couldn’t process… No, he couldn’t accept Optimus’ request.

Everything went black.

His eyes opened, back in his quarters again. The lights far too bright and painful. It felt as though he had been slammed into wall. His face was a mess of sweat and his large hands were trembling.

The spark… Optimus Prime’s Spark was floating gently in its containment tube. The telltale blue light seemed restrained, perhaps weakened. A faint hum was in the air.

Frantically, Kylo reached out with grasping hands. Willing the tube into his hold, his breath came in ragged pants as he pulled the warm cylinder into his chest. There was a deep, all encompassing need within him to keep it as close as possible after that display. He held onto it with a terrible, jealous fury.

He’d let go of so much. Been asked to… been made to give up so much. But not this. This was something he could control.

“No… I won’t let you go.”

His dark hair, oily with perspiration, clung to the glass of the tube as he leaned into it. The Spark vibrated under his shaking fingertips.

“I… Just can’t.

On the surface, he could justify and rationalize away the mechanics for his actions. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order and this was a fantastic, unprecedented anomaly. Of course, it behooved him to keep it under lock and key, close to his person.

But no, he knew his true motives, and they deeply shamed him. Yet another petty act of childishness. Another sin to add to his list. But… he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let go of someone again. Watch the disappointment in their eyes or watch the light fade from them.

He couldn’t be left again, bleeding out on a throne room floor.

Kylo Ren exhaled in a shudder.

“Please… forgive me…”

***

Deep within the churning bowels of the private holonet server, _Crypt1d W@tch_ , the usual suspects were engrossed in the usual discourse.

Lively debate on sightings of rare, mythical, or presumed extinct species from a paradoxically reclusive group of shut-in’s and tech heads. Since the dissolution of the Empire, such forums had grown out and away from their original purpose of Rebellion based dissent and dissemination of intelligence. With the recent rise of the First Order, it necessitated this group carefully mask both their identities and their broadcasting signals behind proxies and firewalls. So far, they had been lucky to go undetected, or unremarked upon. Either way, it left them free to continue their time-honored tradition of arguing about their hyper specific interests with one another via a private channel.

As was also quickly becoming tradition, chief moderator Spark.Rad217, wrapped in a soft blanket and encased within the dim light of his apartment, was busily trying to shut down discussion on the recent influx of ‘iron giant sightings’ at various points across the galaxy.

“I’m taking the time to remind you all, yet again…” He snapped tensely, cutting into a mixed audio and text-only chat, “That posting about, clearly, non-biological entities is not the purview of this server and has no business taking up our valuable bandwidth.”

As was expected, his eardrums took a beating from the indignant caterwauling of the chastened regulars.

“What I saw on Lothal? That was alive! The way it moved… I could hear it growling!”

“My mom’s cousin’s best friend’s delivery droid’s ship flew right past the lady one just yesterday. C4-N9 swears they made eye-contact, and he’s literally programmed to be incapable of lying!”

“As always, you’re trying to run this server like your own private club. Well, I got news for you pal, you can’t suppress the truth!”

Spark.Rad217 groaned and shifted his headset off one ear, leaning back in his desk chair. It creaked loudly. Why did he even bother? Did no one respect the importance of clarity of communication anymore?

He drummed several restless fingers on his desk, idly wondering if he should just abandon the discussion for the day. Alternatively, perhaps he could freeze all active accounts for a 24-hour period and let them cool off. The chat didn’t allow him a moment’s peace to think, continuing their entitled tirade.

“… the watchtower from Wetyin's Colony on Yavin 4 saw the red one transform from a landspeeder INTO one of those giants. What more proof do you need?”

“Why are we still wasting time debating on whether or not these things exist when we could be cataloging their physical traits? I, for one, find it very unprofessional to keep referring to them as ‘the red one’, and ‘the female’. Awful presumptuous to assume these things even have genders in the first place...”

“Thank you! I’ve got a triple source report on the silver one from Lothal: helmet-like head structure, red eyes, five fingers with claws, seeming opposable thumbs and-”

_“Please disclose all sources.”_

A new voice cut off the speaker, dominating the chat. It was a low, slow drawl, heavily processed and impossibly deep from, presumably, a text to voice program. While artificial, it had the cadence of a monster lurking under your bed, the platonic ideal of a demon’s twisted tongue. It was enough to make even Spark.Rad217’s heart jump into his throat, though the blessed silence of a quiet chat soothed him immediately thereafter.

There was a pause, a few sounds of nervous rustling and soft coughs just off microphone. Eventually, Spark.Rad217 shifted his headset back fully into place and spoke. “Listen, maybe you’re new to this server, but part of our protocol for the safety of all users is to not-”

 _“Please disclose all sources.”_ The voice repeated. Despite no obvious change in volume or tone, it seemed more forceful. Even hostile.

Spark.Rad217 realized with some embarrassment that he’d sucked in a breath and held it. He exhaled with an undignified squeak before responding.

“Listen, buddy…” he wet his lips, “These sightings… It’s probably just some new First Order project.”

He wanted to say more but found himself at a loss. He let it hang. There was a long stretch of absolute silence. The persistent whine of power through the holonet and muffled static was the only noise the moderator could hear.

Finally, that great, terrible voice cut through the darkness once again. Utterly dispassionate, yet oppressive in its presence. It supplied a clipped thought, before vanishing from the server forever.

_“Proposal: dubious… Decepticons superior. First Order inferior.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far. We're coming up on a merging of several plot threads next time, I hope you look forward to it. Comments are always appreciated.


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